


Ulterior Motives

by Thorn_Rose



Series: MadaTobi :D [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Exasperated Tobirama, Fluff and Smut, Founders Era, Madara stuggles, Madara thinks he's smooth, Madara's Hair, My heart went OOPS, Oops, Protective Uchiha Madara, Tobirama is amused, Tricky tricks are tricky, Warring Clans Era, What else is new?, You had one job, accidentally in love, clan elders are a PAIN, happy Hashirama, spoiler:he's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorn_Rose/pseuds/Thorn_Rose
Summary: ~*~~*In which the Uchiha elders, with reluctant agreement from Madara and amused glee from Izuna, decide that to end the war with the Senju, they need to go about it in a rather...unconventional way. Their solution? Having their clan head seduce the White Demon of the Senju, Tobirama. ‘Peace’ will be born from their union, disguising the Trojan horse behind it all. Hashirama is delighted, Tobirama is surprisingly chill with it, Mito and Toka are wary, but agreeing. But the Uchiha have ulterior motives, dark and deadly ones. So what happens when Madara accidentally catches feelings for the man he’s supposed to seduce and entice? What happens when he grows to love the man who is supposed to be his ticket, his key to destroying the Senju clan once and for all?Suggested by and written for my dear Bookgal <3
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: MadaTobi :D [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087394
Comments: 89
Kudos: 264





	1. An absolute insanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bookgal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookgal/gifts).



> Also includes prompt: Character in a fight scene: *lifting their disarmed opponent’s chin slightly with the business end of their weapon* for Tiktacsss

~*~*~

_My dear, you’re not so innocent. You’re fooling heaven's gates, so you won’t have to change. You’re no saint, you’re no saviour.  
\- Echos, Saints. _

~*~*

If he had to sit through another one of these useless meetings that only ended with cranky old bastards screeching at each other like the vultures they were, Madara would rip his hair from his scalp. All of it. No matter how much he liked his inky black mane. 

Beside him, Izuna groaned, hands on the table and slowly stretching out until his face and chest was plastered against its surface. Madara was almost tempted to mimic him, and show just how annoyed and tired he was. But, he was clan head. He couldn’t afford such a luxury in the face of the old windbags. 

His brother mumbled something that sounded very much like _’Kami, kill me now, pleaseeee,’_ and Madara silently agreed with his complaint. He’d need a bottle of sake when he was done here. Or 5. 

“Peace with the Senju is unattainable,” an elder screeched, just as he decided to zone back in. 

Fuck it. Make that 12. 12 bottles of sake. 

He glanced down at his side, where another of Hashirama’s ceasefire requests sat silently at his hip, unopened, unread. What was the point when he knew exactly what would be written on its pages? The thought of Hashirama brought with it a swirl of undecipherable emotions. 

Hashirama. His best friend. Were they even able to remain friends? He knew Hashirama still considered him to be his. Every time they clashed, Hashirama pleaded with him to just stand down, to accept his offers of peace, and build their village they dreamed off as kids. As annoyed as Madara was with all of it, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it still. The idea still appealed. It was just unattainable. The dreams of children couldn’t come to fruition as adults. The sooner Hashirama realized this, the better. 

So what if he pulled his punches, just a little? So what if he occasionally looked away when Hashirama left an obvious opening? Sue him for being a little nostalgic. He just wanted to keep fighting. It brought such a rush of adrenaline. He wouldn’t get it if they made peace. 

Repeat the lie often enough, and you could convince even yourself of its truth.

He watched Elder Mikae down a shot, her face bored. How relatable. 

Elder Shinzou was face palming in response to something Elder Akira was saying. A very common reaction to the old man. 

“Enough!” he called, when the arguing elders finally frayed his nonexistent patience. He stood up, shoving his chair back with a loud screech of wood on tile, slamming his hands down on the table and glaring vehemently at everyone. They slowly fell into silence, gazes ranging between questioning, to irritated, to carefully blank or resigned. 

“There is little more that we can do,” he said slowly. “Clearly, we cannot make peace with them. There is too much bad blood, too much hate and anger on both sides. This war will only end when one of us has eradicated the other, and I will not permit the Uchiha to be the ones to fall. So for the sake of all of our sanities, cease your endless bickering and bitching.” 

“We wouldn’t have to debate so much if you'd just step up your act, Madara-sama,” Elder Akira snorted. Madara glared at him, feeling his eyebrow twitch. 

“What did you say?” he asked quietly, calmly, with a false edge of sickening sweetness. The Elder paled, seeming to realize he stepped over a line. But he had already stepped too far to turn back now. Madara watched the man swallow, and gather his courage. 

“We are all aware that you are the strongest clan head we Uchiha have had,” he began, and Madara resisted the urge to snort. What an absolute suck up. “And we thank you for your endless contributions. However, it just….” He paused, and Madara scowled. 

“Go on, Elder Akira,” he growled. Akira swallowed. 

“You are strong and talented. It leads us to wonder why you seem to have such difficulty defeating Hashirama Senju.” 

Ah, this again. Madara inhaled deeply. “We have all discussed this many times. Hashirama Senju is a formidable enemy. I am hard-pressed to keep up with him. You insist I kill him, but it’s not so easy. If you’re so insistent upon his death, you are welcome to go ahead and try it. I warn you, it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do.” 

“Surely, the Senju is not _that_ powerful,” Elder Shinzou protested, stroking his silver beard. “Are you certain you are not merely-” 

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Madara hissed, low and threatening. His chakra flared, and the torches all around them wavered and flickered in response, temporarily plunging the room in absolute darkness, then blinding light, before they settled once more. Elder Shinzou frowned. “Hashirama Senju is the most powerful opponent I ever have, and ever will, face. He is stronger than I, and the only reason I am not already dead is because the man is infuriatingly optimistic, clinging to memories and dreams of the past.” 

“Say it like you’re a little more in love with him, Anija,” Izuna muttered, straightening up. Madara rolled his eyes. 

“Hashirama is married, idiot.” 

“He is?” Elder Hikari asked in surprise. Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes? For a while, now. He’s only been proclaiming it loudly ever since, whining that I wouldn’t accept peace and attend his wedding ceremony. Izuna, don’t you pay any attention?” 

“All of my attention is usually focussed on not dying,” Izuna said dryly. “You know, from that terrifying White Demon that Senju have? Freaken terror.” 

Madara snorted, slowly reclaiming his seat, and folding his hands together, to prevent his fingers from fidgeting. It was a habit he had never been able to break from childhood. “Anyways, as I was saying,” he began again. “The Senju have the Uzumaki’s support, as he married their princess, Mito. For the last few months, we’ve been waiting for the Senju to make the first move when it comes to our clashes. But we should act quickly, before the Senju gain the strength of the Uzumaki. If that should happen, we may be done for. Facing the Senju clan alone has been difficult, but if they are backed up by a clan as old and powerful as the Uzumaki, I am not sure we could survive.” 

“So, what do you suggest, then?” Elder Mikae asked. She was one of the few Elders he actually liked. They drank together sometimes. For an old lady, she could hold her liquor. Madara gave in to the demands of his hands, and started tapping his fingers on the table, drumming restlessly. 

“If our intelligence is correct, the Uzumaki should begin sending shinobi and supplies to aid the Senju beginning in three weeks, and continuing on after that,” he began. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave us a lot of time. Hikaku and Izuna and I already have an idea. Should you approve, I wish to launch a full scale attack within 5 days. Take the full might of the Uchiha, lay siege to their compound, cut off their outside supply, and burn them to the ground.” 

“Can we afford a mission like that?” Elder Mirao pondered, thoughtfully. She was probably the oldest of the Elders here, her once black hair so white it was almost blinding. “Such an endeavour would take time, supplies, and manpower. I am not convinced we have enough of any.” 

“It’s our last and only option,” Izuna said, shrugging. “Either this works, or we sign away our lives, and the lives of the entire Uchiha clan.” 

“If it succeeds, it’ll be an absolute victory. But if we fail, the Uchiha will be wiped from the land's  
history.” 

“What other choice do we have? It’s either this, or we die anyways. We cannot stand against the combined might of the Senju and the Uzumaki.” 

“We have allies…” 

“Who, the Hagaramo? That pitiful clan is hardly a help NOW, much less later.” Annndddd, they were back to arguing. 

“Quiet!” Madara thundered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s take a break. 20 minutes and we’ll reconvene.” 

Without waiting for any agreement, Madara turned on his heel and stalked out of the meeting hall, heading off the right and climbing up to his favorite spot on the short wall surrounding the Uchiha compound. From here, he could see almost the entirety of his clans home. He could watch his kin wander about their business, and see the children playing. He never regretted pulling the children from their ranks, even if he had had to fight tooth and nail to get his way. 

Children didn’t deserve to die for adult wars. He crossed his arms, and started tapping his fingers on his arms, mind straying from the meeting, to the proposal he cooked up. It could work, if they could manage to take the Senju by surprise. But if they failed…

What would happen to the children he fought so hard to protect if the Uchiha lost? He doubted Hashirama would be unkind to them. He would probably try and bring them into the Senju clan. But what about the rest of his clan? They had no qualms about killing children in cold blood before. What was to say they wouldn’t now? Maybe Hashirama would protest, fight for their lives. But he might cave, to the will of his clan elders and his cold and calloused little brother. 

The thought of the white haired Senju had his fingers tightening on his arms, so hard he was probably giving himself bruises. The Demon Senju was a terrifying force on the battlefield. Izuna was an incredibly talented fighter, but he still worried for his little brother when he went up against him. One mistake. That’s all it would take. 

All the more reason to end this war. 

But if they did win, what then? Would he really be able to kill Hashirama, of all people? Maybe he’d let another one of his clanmates do it. And if they won, what would they do with the surviving children, the elderly, those who couldn’t fight? Would he order his clan to just go ahead and kill them? That made them no better than their forefathers. 

Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through enough. But he didn’t exactly have another choice. 

The Uzumaki were an old and powerful clan. With their support, the Senju would undoubtedly come to eradicate the Uchiha. Offense is the best defense. The Uchiha had to strike first. Even if all they had was a half of an idea and desperation. 

He glanced down at the meeting hall, watching the Elders enter. Oh, 20 minutes was up already. With a reluctant sigh, Madara stood, hopping down from the wall and plodding reluctantly back into the hall. When he took his place, he was immediately suspicious. 

Elders Hikari, Mikae, and Shinzou were looking rather thoughtful. Akira looked scandalized. Mirao looked smug. Uh, oh. 

“Did I miss something?” he asked flatley, taking his place at the head of the table once again.

“Elder Mirao had the most interesting idea over the break,” Elder Hikari informed, stroking his beard, eyebrows furrowed with thought. Mikae and Shinzou nodded. Madara frowned. 

“Care to enlighten me?” he asked impatiently. Elder Mirao hummed. 

“Hashirama Senju is married.” 

“Yes…?” 

“To the Uzumaki’s.” 

“Yes….Have you not been paying attention?” 

“I have been. I have an idea.” 

If he didn’t like her so much, Madara was sure he’d set her on fire from sheer impatience. “And?” he asked, trying and failing not to sound irritated. Mirao started to reply, but Elder Hikari took over. 

“Marriage alliances are a powerful thing,” he mused. “Often times, there is a complete merging of peoples, of land, resources, powers, allies, and more.” 

“I am aware of how dire the situation is, Elder Hikari,” Madara replied dryly. He shook his head. 

“You misunderstand, young Madara. I am not pointing out our weak position. I am suggesting we do the same.” 

What? Madara raised both eyebrows incredulously. Beside him, Izuna made an interested sound. “You want to ally the Uciha to another clan to increase our chances against the Senju through a marriage?” 

“Stop jumping to conclusions,” Akira scolded. “Let him finish.” 

“What do the Uchiha have to offer another clan?” Madara muttered anyways. “We are not an overly rich clan. We’ve been drained of our resources, our wealth.” 

“I was not thinking of offering material possessions,” Hikari said, sounding smug and delighted and amused. “Besides, we have something much better to offer than worldly things.” 

“And what is it that we have to offer?” Madara snarked, impatient and annoyed. Hikari’’s smile was devious. 

“Why, you, of course.” 

What. 

~*~*~

Madara’s brain screeched to a halt, and he stared at him. “What?” 

Shinzou smirked, amused as his disbelief. “You are the strongest shinobi in the Land of Fire, besides, perhaps, Hashirama Senju. Many clans would be desperate to get their hands on you. I’m sure many would be willing to offer much in return for your hand.” 

“What?” Madara squeaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. 

“Wait, hold on,” Izuna broke in, looking and sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “You want to sell Anija in marriage to some powerful clan to secure victory over the Senju?” 

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Akira said slowly. 

“You all misunderstand,” Mirao said firmly. “That is not what I was suggesting.” A wave of relief crashed over him, and he sighed in gratefulness. Marriage was not something he wanted, at all. Probably ever. 

“Then where were you going with this, Elder Mirao?” Elder Hikari asked impatiently, irritably. “You haven’t given us much more information than proposing a union.” 

“If you had bothered to get your heads out of your asses for once, then you would have heard me out,” Miraro said dryly. Madara snickered. Despite her age and her frailty, she was still sharp as a kunai, and just as sassy as they could come. “So, listen well, all of you. This is something I have heard of happening only once. It must be perfectly executed if we are to emerge victorious over the Senju.” 

“We’re all ears, Elder Mirao,” Izuna promised, folding his hands and tilting his head, the very picture of avid attention. Madara rolled his eyes, but leaned forward on his elbows, giving the old woman his full attention as well. 

Seemingly satisfied, Elder Mirao nodded. “I was not suggesting we marry off our clan head,” she said firmly. “I was saying a union may aid the Uchiha in obtaining victory. You all misunderstood what I meant by that.” 

“So, what did you mean?” Elder Akira asked, scowling. Mirao hummed, looking unbothered by his impatience. 

“A union between two clans is powerful, yes. But what is even more powerful is love.” 

Where in all the great sages was she going with this? Madara exchanged a look with Izuna, who looked just as bewildered. His little brother shrugged at his questioning stare. 

“Hashirama Senju is adamant on making peace. He is a powerful man, but a rather foolish one, blinded by his ideals. A declaration of love, and actions on them, could lead to him and his clan agreeing to peace to the Uchiha.” 

The moment the words were out of her mouth, the meeting hall was in an uproar. Izuna was immediately snarling that the Uchiha would never make peace with the Senju. The other Elders were accusing Mirao of going senile and crazy in her old age. 

_‘I’m too tired to deal with this,’_ Madara thought in despair. He glanced over at Mirao, who gazed back at him, utterly ignoring the others. Well, seemed she had more to say. With a sigh, he flared his chakra, letting it turn hot and heavy and oppressive, washing over the others, and effectively shutting them up. “Enough,” he growled. “Elder Mirao still has the floor. Everyone will sit down, shut up, and hear her out. Elder Mirao, please continue.” 

“Thank you,” she said tightly, as the others finally quieted and settled. “As I was saying. Please allow me to finish before you start screaming and jumping to conclusions. Now, Hashirama Senju has made it no secret he wishes to make peace with the Uchiha. We all know peace can not be attained. But perhaps we could give the illusion of peace. Doing so would put us in the position to take advantage of our enemies proximity.” 

“Come out with it,” Izuna said impatiently. “What are you really suggesting?” 

“Hashirama Senju is claimed,” Mirao continued, ignoring him. “This could only work with a high ranking member of the Senju class, preferably the clan head family. As it is, his younger brother is still unclaimed, which makes him the perfect target. Of course, the White Demon is clever and suspicious, so it would take another high ranking member to play the part, preferably our clan head.” 

Madara squinted at her, confused. “What are you requesting that I do, Elder Mirao?” She smiled, just a little. 

“You will agree to Hashirama Senju’s latest ceasefire,” she said, firmly. “We will make an apparent ‘peace’ with the Senju. You, Madara, will begin to court the brother of the Senju clan head. Hashirama will believe that your reasons for peace come from newly realized...feelings...for his brother. It will be more believable than suddenly agreeing to a ceasefire out of the blue. You will court the Senju, seduce him if you must. Once he and his clan are trusting, and our ‘peace’ with the Senju clan believable, we will spring the trap. We will destroy them from the inside, and we shall finally wipe the Senju name from history.” 

Dead silence met her words. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Madara finally choked out. “That’s insane!” 

“Is it?” Mirao countered. “Hashirama is an optimist, as you’ve said. He looks past ulterior motives, and will only see what he wants to see. You, his enemy, but the man he claims as a friend, finally agreeing to his terms of peace, brought to do so by love. You will charm the younger Senju, get him and his clan to lower their guards. Then, we shall strike, and eradicate the Senju clan.” 

“I love it,” Izuna cackled, and Madara blustered, sputtering out a protest. 

“What? No! Elder Mirao, it will never work! Perhaps we can fool Hashirama, but we will not be able to trick Tobirama with such a childish act!” 

“Are you doubting your abilities?” Mirao asked, almost smugly. “Do you not think you could seduce a target?” 

“I can seduce whoever I want!” Madara screeched, offended. It was only after the words came from his mouth and Mirao’s smirk widened that he realized his mistake. 

“Perfect. Then you should have no problem charming Tobirama Senju.” 

“But I-” 

“It’s crazy,” Elder Hikari broke in. “But I like it. It could work.” 

“Elder Hikari, this is hardly-” 

“But are we sure our clan head can do so, without losing his infamous temper?” Elder Akira put in. “I agree it’s a sturdy plan, but it all rides on if Madara can fulfill his end of the job. And, no offense, Madara-san, but he’s not exactly the most subtle or gentle kind of person.” 

“Excuse you, I can be subtle!” Madara flared, indignant. Izuna snorted. 

“I’m sure Madara-sama will play his part perfectly,” Elder Mirao soothed. “Is it decided then? Shall we put this plan into motion?” 

“I think it’s insane, but why not,” Elder Mikae said dryly. “You have my vote.” 

“And mine.”

:”As well as mine.” 

Madara gawked, aghast, as the other Elders voted for Mirao’s insane idea. “Izuna,” he implored, as they were the only two left to vote. Izuna gave him a positively wicked grin. 

“Oh, anija. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Plus, this is a smart way to do so. Taking down our greatest enemy from the inside? Luring them into such a beautiful trap? How can we say not? Elder Mirao, you have my vote.” 

Madara sent his brother a betrayed look, and Izuna just smirked back at him, revelling in his discomfort. The Elders gave him expectant looks. As clan head, Madara could veto the idea. The decision for how the Uchiha would proceed would inevitably depend on him. 

On one hand, hell no. Madara was not about to play the part of some lovestruck fool. 

But on the other hand…..How many lives could he save? How many Uchiha children could be spared of growing up without parents? He couldn’t ignore the benefits, the positives, of Elder Mirao’s plan. 

“Urghhhh.” He raked his fingers of both hands through his hair, and tugged at the strands. “Fine! This is madness, but fine!” 

“Perfect!” Elder Mirao clapped her hands together, looking satisfied. “Now, be a dear and agree to that ceasefire agreement you have there.” 

“No, wait,” Izuna put in, shaking his head. “We gotta do this right. Tobirama and the other Senju will be incredibly suspicious if we just suddenly agree to a ceasefire. We have to go slow, for now.” 

“And how do we propose we do that?” Elder Akira asked, with a skeptically raised eyebrow. 

Izuna rolled his eyes. “Obviously we need to set things up so it's believable for Madara to fall ridiculously in love with Tobirama.” 

Madara bit back a childish whine and resisted the urge to sink into the floor and let the ground swallow him up forever. 

~*~*~

Normally, Madara didn’t feel nervous going into a battle. But now, well. He was. 

Firstly, because if things went wrong Izuna would probably die. And then he might maybe also die. So, no pressure. 

Striding along beside him, Izuna shot him a grin. “Ready to play the part of a lovestruck man, brother?” he said cheerfully. Madara scowled at him. 

“Ready to play the part of an injured cripple?” he shot back, and Izuna rolled his eyes, dramatically casting an arm over his eyes and fake fainting 

“Oh please, I could be famous for my acting skills.” 

Madara snorted. “Famous maybe for getting rotten fruits and vegetables tossed at your face for your terrible performances.” He ducked under Izuna’s arm when he swatted at him with an indignant squawk. 

“Anijaaaaa,” Izuna whined, “aren’t you supposed to be a good big brother and be supportive of your little brothers endeavours?” 

“No, I’m supposed to look out for you, and I’m telling you now, that you would never make it in the acting industry.” 

“Wow, way to be encouraging.” 

“Truth hurts, little brother.” 

Izuna made a face at him, and Madara just smirked back. Then, his senses pinged, picking up on the presence of a large group of shinobi ahead. Their chakra signatures were familiar. Madara paused, holding up a hand. Immediately, Izuna and the other Uchiha behind him stopped, freezing in place and standing deathly silent. Madara tilted his head, closing his eyes and concentrating. 

“Senju,” he said after a pause. “A small battalion. They outnumber us.” 

“We can take them,” Hikaku said confidently. “Unless…?” 

“Hashirama and Tobirama are there,” Madara confirmed. Then he became aware of something else. “Ah, dammit, they detected us. ETA, 6 minutes till confrontation. Let’s go, I’m not going to give them the advantage of picking the battle ground.” 

He knew these forests like the back of his hand. Bold of the Senju to intrude on their territory, even if it was just within the borders. He turned about, and took off, heading towards their position. His Uchiha silently slipped into formation behind him, with practised, quiet movements. Madara took a moment to feel proud of his clansmen. 

True to his prediction, they met the Senju’s at just about the 6 minute mark, in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Madara let his chakra flare and twist aggressively when he saw them, singling out Hashirama, as he always did. 

“You dare?!” he bellowed, drawing his weapons and pouncing. “There are Uchiha lands!” Hashirama squawked, flailing, but never one to be taken by surprise. 

“Ah, Madara! I apologize, I never realized we crossed the border!” He blocked Madara’s furious barrage, stepping back to orient himself. 

“Bullshit! You I can see making that mistake! But not that brother of yours!” He paused to point at Tobirama, who was drawing his katana as Izuna slowly made his way off, favouring his right leg. Just as planned. Tobirama glanced over at the mention of him, red eyes narrowing. Then he smirked, just a little. 

“You planned this!” Madara realized, accusingly pointing a finger at the Senju. Tobirama’s smirk widened, just a little. And then he was off and clashing with Izuna. 

“Okay, so _maybe_ we strayed a little bit,” Hashirama started, summoning a few vines to shield himself from Madara’s fireball. “But we have good reason! So if you’d just calm down a minute and let me-” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Madara screeched, lunging at the Senju. Hashirama yelped, hopping back, and successfully tangling Madara in a few vines, forcing him to stop and burn himself free. 

“I’m serious, Madara! This is all just a misunderstanding!” 

“Not according to your little brother,” Madara muttered, making sure his voice didn’t come out as harsh or biting as normal. He glanced over at their little brothers. Izuna was moving slow, careful. Not making any unnecessary movements, letting Tobirama move first, and only countering, never attacking. Subtly playing up his ‘injury’. 

Of course, if it came down to it, Izuna would defend himself. But for now, Madara kept a careful eye on his brother. The first sign of a falter, a mistake, and he’d be there to haul his ass out of there. 

He half-heartedly fought Hashirama, paying more attention to Izuna and Tobirama than his opponent. Hashirama might be dense, but he wasn’t an idiot. “Is Izuna okay?” he asked, as their blades locked. Madara grunted, heaving against Hashirama. But with the Senju’s superior height and weight, he could already feel himself sliding back. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he spat, leaping back to give himself some space. Hashirama frowned. 

“Madara, I can heal him,” he offered. “It can be the first step! To peace, to the village we dreamed of as kids!” 

“You’re out of your mind, Hashirama,” he said tiredly, glancing back at Izuna once more. Even if it was on purpose, he was still worried. It was his job, as a big brother. “How long will you hold onto your childish dreams and delusions?” 

“You hesitated!” Hashirama cheered. “That means you’re still thinking about it!” 

“What? No!” He pounced, managing to land a hit on Hashirama’s shoulder. The wound healed just as quickly, and he groaned. “Stop being so…. So _you_ , dammit!” 

Hashirama pouted, and as he predicted, launched into another one of his spiels about peace and the village and blah blah blah. Madara mostly tuned him out at this point, only listening with half an ear. As he blocked and parried and struck, he watched Izuna out of the corner of his eye. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for Izuna to actually stumble, for real, reeling back after a shockingly hard blow. Not an act. Or for water ropes to reach up, wrapping around his brother's hands, sending his katana flying, leaving him open, bound, defenseless. Or for Tobirama to stride towards him, adjusting his katana, ready to strike the final blow. 

Kami, no, he knew this wouldn’t end well! “Izuna!” he cried, abandoning his fight with Hashirama and bolting to his brother's side. Izuna’s eyes were wide, startled, evidently just as surprised as he was by Tobirama’s actions. 

Neither of them were expecting Tobirama to disappear with a puff of smoke when Madara lunged at him, fully intending to protect his brother no matter what. He certainly wasn’t expecting to stumble when he hit nothing, or for a strong hand to grab his collar, or for a body to suddenly flicker in front of him, turning, twisting the fabric of his mantle, and throwing him over their shoulder. 

His back hit the ground, hard, and his breath left his lungs with a grunt. A little dazed, he turned over onto his side, wheezing in surprise and pain. “Anija!” Izuna cried, in warning, a moment too late. 

Watery ropes wound around his wrists as he got to his knees. Before he could fully stand, they tightened, and pulled, binding his hands to the ground on either side of his thighs. The cold steel of the tip of a katana under his chin had him freezing, and slowly looking up, right into Tobirama’s carefully blank expression. 

“Count yourself lucky, Uchiha,” he said lowly, “that I don’t cut off your head. Hashirama would be sad, and I don’t need to deal with that. So I give you a choice, Madara. Surrender, sign a ceasefire agreement, or die. It’s up to you, but I would choose wisely.” 

Madara stared at him in stunned disbelief. 

What? 

What the hell was happening? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! How did they manage to screw up so fantastically?! 

The battle field grew deathly silent. Everyone, Uchiha and Senju, were staring at them. Some pleased, smug. Other’s shocked at the sight of their clan head on his knees with a sword under his chin, dangerously close to his throat. 

Madara tugged experimentally at the water ropes on his wrists. They tightened in response to his movement. Holding firm. “Tik tok, Uchiha,” Tobirama said, pressing the blade a little closer, likely piercing the skin just a little. 

Okay, don’t panic. He could salvage this still. He was Madara Uchiha. He was no idiot. A terrible idea crossed his mind, and he immediately wished he hadn’t thought of it. But….it could work. 

Tobirama tilted his chin up a little further, moving the katana higher. 

“Holy shit you’re pretty,” Madara blurted, before he could change his mind. He immediately knew it was the right thing to say. 

Hashirama sputtered, Izuna burst out laughing, and other members of their clans gasped at his declaration. 

But Tobirama? The white haired Senju stared at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open comically. And then, his pale face flushed pink, and his katana lowered. Madara shrugged a little helplessly under his flabbergasted stare, and offered up what he hoped was a sheepish smile. 

Tobirama was quick to collect himself. The water ropes released Madara’s wrists. But before Madara could stand, Tobirama’s next words had him freezing in disbelief. 

“I’m glad you think so. You are too.” 

Izuna cackled, practically falling over in an effort to breathe through his laughter. 

Madara stared at Tobirama, barely aware that his expression probably mimicked the one Tobirama had just been wearing. 

Okay….

What the fuck was he getting himself into?


	2. Fresh Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace talks. 
> 
> Tobi thirsts

~*~

_Cuz you’re gorgeous in this moment. If I could bottle this up, I would. So suddenly I’m in love with a stranger.  
-Fresh Eyes, Andy Grammer _

~*~

“ANIJA!” 

Just as he looked up, a large mound of dark purple fabric smacked him in the face. 

“Izuna,” he growled, untangling himself from the fabric and giving his brother a deadly glare. The brat just grinned back, smug and insufferable. “What do you want?” Madara sighed, when his brother apparently didn’t seem like leaving. 

“Get dressed,” his brother insisted, pushing the cloth back into his hands. “And hurry up, won’t you? We have to leave in like half an hour.” 

“You shut up,” Madara groused. But he took the mantle, whipping off his oversized shirt and shrugging it on. Izuna hummed, fluttering around him, straightening the cloth until it sat straight and wrinkle free. Then he pushed his brother to sit down, stepping around him to frown at his face. “What?” 

“Stay put,” Izuna ordered, and swept out of the room. Bemused, Madara crossed his arms, and waited. He was back in only a few minutes, holding a small black pencil in hand. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, putting a hand under Madara’s chin and tilting his face up. 

Madara eyed the pencil suspiciously. “What is that?” 

“Just a little something. Now close ‘em.” 

Madara snorted, and obediently closed his eyes. Humming cheerfully, Izuna set to work, drawing whatever it was he was drawing on Madara’s eyelids. “All done!” he said. Madara cracked open one eye, and narrowed it. 

“What did you do?” 

“Take a look.” Izuna grabbed a small, handheld mirror, and held it up in front of him. Curious despite his irritation, Madara stared at his reflection. Izuna had quite artfully lined his upper eyelashes with a thin line of black, and swept it past his lashes to make a tiny, subtle wing. 

“Why?” 

“Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Why?” 

“Dress to impress, brother dear. Your true love awaits!” He spun Madara around, facing the vanity, and gathered Madara’s thick mass of hair in his hands. Cursing with the effort, he wrangled the wild locks under control, securing it into a high ponytail with a wide leather tie. Then, he carefully pulled a few strands loose to frame his face. “There, you look like a pretty princess.” 

“Izuna, I love you. But I will murder you in your sleep.” 

“No you won’t.” He patted Madara’s hair, being careful not to disturb his hard work. Despite his crankiness, Madara had to admit his brother had done a fairly good job making him look presentable. His hair pulled back made him look a little softer, but that softness was immediately countered by the eyeliner. 

Oh, sage, was he seriously wearing eyeliner? To a ceasefire talk with the Senju? He scowled at his reflection, reaching up to tug on a strand of longer hair next to his ear. He allowed Izuna far too much freedom. So much for his reputation. 

As Izuna fluttered around his room, poking around his stuff, looking for….something, evidently, Madara continued to glare at his reflection, tempted to yank his ponytail out and wipe the eyeliner off. But Izuna had looked so pleased. And as much as he hated to admit it, his little brother was right. 

After that humiliating incident with Tobirama Senju three days ago, he had gone out of his way to avoid everyone in his clan, particularly the Elders. Word had very quickly spread among the clan. How he had embarrassingly let himself be taken off guard and knocked on his ass by the White Demon. And then his humiliating declaration that he found the Senju pretty. And then the Senju _saying it back!_

After Tobirama’s admission, he had falteringly stammered out an agreement to a cease fire. Hashirama was nearly in tears, clinging to Madara’s shoulders and squealing in delight, declaring that he had never lost faith in Madara and their childhood dreams. Tobirama had watched Madara shriek and push at the other man with an amused smirk. Fuming in embarrassment, Madara agreed to meet with a Senju delegation in three days time to go over a draft for a treaty, and potentially even sign it. 

The Elders had been thrilled, at how quickly Madara seemed to be working, and how ‘receptive’ the White Demon already was. They didn’t seem to care that it was all coincidental. As for the rest of the clan? Some were furious with their clan head for letting himself be bested and caving into the Senju’s demands. Some were relieved at this opportunity to stop the fighting and the bloodshed. But many more were terribly amused. 

Rumors were already starting to spread and they were horribly overblown. Some people claimed Madara had been a blushing mess. Which was not accurate. Others were speculating that Madara was madly in love with the Senju all along and finally had a good reason to seek peace. Which, admittedly, was a little close to their scheme. But not true. 

Izuna had been a right disaster afterwards. Every time he caught Madara’s gaze, he dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Madara had to consciously remind himself not to strangle his last little brother. 

And now, three days later, here he was, getting ready to head back to the little clearing where all of this happened to meet the Senju. Obviously Tobirama was going to be there. It’d be fine. Madara wouldn’t react. This would be a good opportunity to go a little further into the Elders insane plan, start to sink his claws in and get them ready to twist and rip. 

With a sigh, he started to stand, only for Izuna to push him back down. “Wait, one more thing,” he insisted, fussing over his hair again. 

“Izuna,” Madara growled impatiently, reaching up to swat at his brother's hands. “Enough now. Let’s go.” 

“Just a minute,” Izuna whined, reaching up again insistently. He pulled and poked for a little bit, then leaned back with a satisfied grin. “There. Perfect. We already know Tobirama thinks you’re pretty. He won’t be able to look away now.”

Madara glanced back at his reflection, and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Izuna?” 

“Looks nice, don’t you think?” He tugged on a strand of Madara’s hair, in which a slender, black and brown and white feather was woven, one of 4 peeking from their places half hidden in his black strands. “Silver is molting, as you’ve told me. I decided to put her feathers to good use!” 

“I hate you and I want to bury you alive,” Madara grumbled, standing up and swatting Izuna away. Izuna just smiled, amused. “Let’s just go. The others are ready?” 

“Ah, the Elders are already on their way, the slow old windbags. We leave now, we’ll catch them just before they can hobble into the clearing.” 

“Let’s go then. I’d hate to let them chase the Senju away with their foul disposition.” 

~*~*~

They caught up to the Elders a few miles from the clearing. Along with the ancient ones, there were a few other Uchiha accompanying them. Madara slowed to stride alongside Hikaku and Naori. His cousin raised both eyebrows at him, glancing down at the feathers in his hair. “Nice,” he commented dryly. 

“Izuna,” Madara explained helplessly. Hikaku snorted, and Madara flared his senses. “They beat us there,” he informed, picking up on a dozen chakra signatures up ahead, all of them familiar. The ancient forestry feel of Hashirama, the cool pool of water that was Tobirama, a few others he recognized but didn’t feel like identifying. 

“Ready to get your game on, Maddy?” Izuna asked with a snicker. Madara glared at him, but decided not to answer. If he had, Izuna would say something else, and he would likely want to murder him. 

Elder Miraro gave him a meaningful look, and he stubbornly refused to meet her gaze, marching through the trees in stormy silence. He slowed when the trees began to thin and the clearing came into view. Then he stopped, and sighed. 

“Well. At least Hashirama is sophisticated.” 

Standing in the center of the clearing was an enormous wooden building, ridiculously ornate and fancy. Both the Uchiha and the Senju symbols were all over the building. It had a full wrap around porch, and stood well over 4 stories tall. 

“Think he’d make me a house?” Elder Akira wondered. Madara, and everyone else, ignored him. With a sigh, Madara stalked towards the house, stomping up the stairs and throwing open the doors. 

“Madaaarraaaaa,” Hashirama squealed, standing up from the enormous table in the center of the room he entered, a room that took up the entire first floor. Madara paused, steeling himself. 

“Hashirama,” he greeted evenly. “I see you’ve handled the...accommodations.” He didn’t manage to sidestep Hashirama’s hug, and he grunted as the long haired Senju hoisted him off his feet with his enthusiasm, practically breaking his ribs with the strength of his embrace. 

“I wanted to make things as easy for you and your clan as I could,” he said cheerfully. 

“Anija, please refrain from breaking the ribs of the Uchiha’s clan head,” Tobirama deadpanned, not looking up from whatever documents he was looking at. “It would not do to kill our new….ally. Even with kindness.” 

“Ah, sorry, Madara!” Hashirama apologized, setting Madara back down with a sheepish smile. Madara indeed deeply, compensating for the lack of oxygen from the last few seconds. 

“You built your little building on Uchiha land,” he said stiffly. Hashirama blinked at him, long and slow. 

“Ah, yes? We are at peace, Madara. I assumed you would not mind, seeing as the Senju came to your territory to discuss the treaty.” 

“I would not be so quick to assume,” Madara growled, crossing his arms and glaring at him. 

“Stop being so difficult,” another voice said, sounding exasperated. Madara frowned, turning on his heel and glaring at Tobirama, forgetting that he was supposed to be acting utterly captivated by the White Demon. 

“You Senju have a lot of nerve,” he hissed, fully preparing to launch into an angry rant. Tobirama looked up with an eyebrow raised in an unimpressed way. Then he blinked, long and slow. And blinked again. His red eyes flicked from Madara’s face, to his hair, back, and back again. 

“Shall we begin?” he said finally, looking away and standing up. “Here is a draft for the treaty, Uchiha. Do us a favour and approve it.” He strode closer, pausing beside Hashirama and holding out the papers. 

“You dared to write up a treaty without the Uchiha’s input?” Madara seethed, snatching the papers from Tobirama’s hands with a fierce scowl. 

“Madara!” Elder Mirao scolded. Madara’s eyes shot up, and he inhaled deeply at the meaningful glare sent back at him. He backpedaled, hard, when he realized. 

“I mean, ah… Thanks. Way to be...on top of things.” 

Tobirama’s eyebrows raised again, and his lips twitched, just a little. Madara turned away with a scowl, stalking towards the table and taking a seat. He spread the papers out in front of him, and started to read, scanning through their contents. As he worked through them, he passed them to Izuna to read, who in turn handed them to the Elders. 

As much as he hated to admit it….. 

It was a good treaty. It was fair. There were no loop holes, no hidden clauses. He read everything very, very carefully, even activating his Sharingan to make sure there was nothing hidden. Izuna looked pleasantly surprised beside him, and even the Elders seemed impressed. A miracle. 

He handed Izuna the last page, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, eyeing the Senju sitting on the other side of the table. Hashirama stared back at him, his expression akin to that of an excited puppy, eagerly waiting for a treat. His frown deepened, and he glanced at Tobirama. 

The White Demon was staring at him, and didn’t even bother to look away when their gazes met. Madara stared back at him. Then, as Izuna handed the last page to Elder Akira, who was sitting beside him, Tobirama leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms just as he was, and smirked. 

Madara stared a little longer. That… 

Fuck. 

Now that he was actually looking, and not just getting a passing glance on the battlefield, he had to admit...Tobirama was kinda attractive. With his white hair and red eyes and red tattoos and sharp features. Tall and broad shouldered. Muscles usually hidden beneath blue armor straining against the fabric of his dark clothes. 

Madara looked away, watching his clan elders hum over the last page carefully. So what if the Senju was, admittedly, kinda hot. That didn’t change anything. That didn’t change that he had killed dozens of Uchiha, his kin. It just made his job a little less difficult. The fact that Tobirama was absolutely his type made things a little easier. 

Elder Hikari put the paper down, shuffling it under the rest of the documents. “We see no flaws with the proposed treaty,” he said in his gravelly voice. Madara started fidgeting with his gloves. The fact that the Elders actually agreed with this? That was...alarming. He had half hoped the Elders would be outraged with their proposals, and forget their harebrained idea to just go back to war. 

“That’s great!” Hashirama said enthusiastically. He pushed an inkpot and an old styled pen towards Madara. “So, then, Madara,” he went on, taking the papers back, shuffling to the last page, where two blank lines waited for the signatures of the clan heads. Hashirama dipped his utensil in the inkpot, flicking off the excess ink, and scrawled his signature on one of the lines. “Whaddya say, old friend?” 

Madara pursed his lips, frowning down at the paper as Hashirama slowly pushed it towards him. “For the children?” Hashirama prodded, when Madara was slow to move. 

He sighed, and glanced down at Izuna. His brother shrugged slightly, and nodded. 

“For the children,” Madara agreed quietly. He picked up his own utensil, dipped it in the inkpot, and signed his own name next to Hashirama’s. 

~*~*~

Fucking. 

Eyeliner. 

If it weren’t impossible, Tobirama would suspect his heart got lodged in his throat and blocked his airways. As Madara whirled to face him, fair face twisted into an annoyed frown, his breath caught and refused to move. He stared, eyes locking onto the subtle black lines sweeping over Madara’s eyelashes, arching up into a small little flick on the edges. Subtle, but drawing attention to those striking dark orbs. 

And the feathers….

He couldn’t decide what to stare at. Feathers, or eyeliner? Feathers….or...eyeliner? 

Madara’s scowling gaze had him refocusing, with effort. “Shall we begin?” he said finally, pleased that his voice came out steady. He gathered the papers he had been reviewing prior to the Uchiha’s arrival, shuffling them into a neat pile. Then he stood, strolling closer to his brother and Madara. The Uchiha watched him with slightly suspicious eyes. “Here is a draft for the treaty, Uchiha. Do us a favour and approve it.”

Those dark eyes brightened, and his mouth twisted further. “You dared to write up a treaty without the Uchiha’s input?” he snapped, all but ripping the papers from Tobirama’s hands, glaring at them as if he wanted to set them on fire with his gaze alone. 

“Madara!” one of the Uchiha Elders snapped, her tone scolding and harsh. Madara twitched, glancing up at her, and carefully schooling his features. He inhaled deeply, unconsciously biting on his bottom lip briefly. 

“I mean, ah… Thanks. Way to be...on top of things.” Madara’s voice was quiet, a little embarrassed. Tobirama raised both eyebrows, amused. A faint pink glow dusted over his cheeks. _Cute,_ he thought to himself, biting back an amused smile. He watched Madara turn away, stalking towards the table, taking a seat, and investing all of his attention in the treaty he had written up. 

Admittedly, he had come up with the treaty ages ago. Hashirama had always bemoaned his lost friendship with Madara, desiring nothing more but to make peace with Madara, rekindle their friendship, build their village. 

Tobirama had, for a long time, thought his brother was insane. But he was loyal to Hashirama. It was his job to support him. So, he tried to look past his dislike of the Uchiha, and tried to see what Hashirama apparently saw. 

At first, he had been unimpressed, keeping tabs on the Uchiha going about their business in their compound. Being such a powerful sensor was certainly an advantage. He had always known the feel of Izuna and Madara’s chakra, warm and fiery and _large_. 

But it was after a month or so of monitoring the Uchiha’s that he finally understood. 

He knew how Madara’s chakra spiked and rolled in response to his emotions, burning bright, falling suffocating and dark, crackling and pulsing contently like embers in a quiet fire. 

He had been in his lab, curiously following Madara’s progress as the Uchiha practically flew through the forest, pursuing 7 other chakra signatures. 5 adults, 2 children. Uchiha children? Their signatures were faint, but they had the distinct warm, fiery feel. As for the others, he wasn’t sure. From their speed, their desperation, and Madara’s fury….He figured it was safe to assume they had ill intentions.

He followed Madara as he caught up, and his chakra flared and burned, so bright and luminous and _warm_ , that it took Tobirama’s breath away. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, utterly focussed on that starbright chakra, as Madara incinerated the bloodline thieves, and ushered his clan children to safety. That chakra, so hot and intoxicating, soothed and settled, easing as his fury faded into relief. 

It was hard to ignore Madara’s presence since then. It was always there, pulsing and burning in the back of his consciousness. He unconsciously followed Madara’s movements, his emotions, his daily tasks. 

It was even worse when they were on the battlefield. Madara was so distracting, warm and loud and _present._ It was during their skirmishes that Tobirama started looking past the chakra radiating from the man, and actually began to _look_. 

No one could deny the Uchiha was strikingly attractive; fair skinned and raven haired, tall and slender and nearly as fast as he was. 

Needless to say, Tobirama quickly found himself enticed. 

Now, watching Madara scan through his proposed treaty, red Sharingan’s swirling carefully, he took delight in the considering expression on his face. Madara handed his brother the last document, and met his gaze. 

Tobirama didn’t look away, and neither did Madara. After a moment, Tobirama mimicked his position, crossing his arms, and letting his signature smirk cross his face. Madara’s dark eyes darted down, for just a second. Then, they trailed over his face, over the upper portion of his body. 

Then he looked away. “We see no flaws with the proposed treaty,” one of the Uchiha Elders declared, arranging the documents into a pile again. Madara started fidgeting, toying with his leather gloves. Tobirama should not find that as endearing as he did. He tuned out whatever Hashirama was saying, and continued to stare, admiring the way the small feathers in his hair playfully wove around the black strands framing his face. 

Now that he had gotten over the eyeliner….He looked good with his hair up, pulled tight into a high ponytail, making it a little neater, but still leaving no illusions to its length and thick wildness. It swayed and waved behind him whenever he moved. Bizarrely, Tobirama wondered if it was soft, or if it was as course as it looked. 

He watched Madara hesitate for the briefest second before he signed his name on the peace treaty, and shoved the paper away with an unreadable expression. His chakra was churning, unsettled. Still hesitant, unsure. 

Madara’s dark eyes flicked to him again, considering. Tobirama gazed back. Then, unexpectedly, Madara smiled, sly and coy, and winked. Then he was turning on his heel, striding out the door with the other Uchiha on his heels. 

“The village, Tobirama!” Hashirama wailed, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Madara agreed to build the village with me! We’ll finally have it!” 

“I know, Anija,” Tobirama grumbled, still watching even as the Uchiha disappeared into the trees. But he could still feel that chakra, bright and enthralling. “Stop acting like a child who lost his favorite toy,” he scolded, over Hashirama’s dramatic cheers. “Madara will be back tomorrow, remember? You two already talked about where you’d make your village.”

“And we’re going to start building _tomorrow!_ ” Hashirama exclaimed with delight. Tobirama rolled his eyes. 

“You’re lucky I already have the blueprints ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The village begins. The scheme deepens. Soon.... a courtship begins


	3. Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara ponders.   
> Tobirama learns. 
> 
> Izuna's the puppeteer and everyone else are the puppets

~*~*~

_I’m sorry to my unknown lover. Sorry that I can’t believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me….And someone will love you... Someone will love you. But someone isn’t me.  
-Sorry, Halsey _

~*~*~

If this wasn’t all just a front to hide the genocidal intent lurking behind it, Madara might have been pleased. Watching the village start to rise from the ground, sinking its roots into the land, establishing itself. Growing big and strong, a symbol of unity to other lands. 

Instead, he watched the village grow with a melancholic sort of detachment. 

It was growing just to be torn down. A safe stable filled with wolves. A lamb to slaughter. 

Even as he was buried up to his neck in work, making plans for the future years that half the village occupants would never see. He could almost convince himself this was true, real. That the Senju and the Uchiha had finally, truely, reached out their hands to each other and joined in unity. That they were together to forge a path of peace towards the future, for the generations to come. 

The Elders expectant stares always ripped the illusion away from him. 

Sure, he feared the Senju and their might. He feared for the survival of his clan. He wished he didn’t have to. A part of him, no matter how badly he tried to squash it underfoot, still craved the peace and security and unity that the village he and Hashirama had dreamed of as kids would work, would last. 

But like any illusion, reality always came crashing down to shatter the image to pieces. It would only be a matter of time before discourse would arise. It would begin with an Uchiha, or a Senju. One or the other would recognize the other from a previous battle. They’d remember how the other cut down their friend, their family member. They’d remember how they swore revenge. The members of their clan would demand punishment. The other clan would defend their member. And they’d be right back to war. 

_That_ is why he didn’t believe peace could ever work, ever last. One must always emerge victorious over the other. There was no easy, peaceful wayout. It was kill, or be killed. If he didn’t strike first, the Senju would. 

He couldn’t allow himself to dream of such childish things. It was foolish. And it’d only lead to hopes and dreams being crushed underfoot and shattered to a million pieces like-

“I can almost see the smoke curling out of your nose,” a familiar voice drawled, ripping him from his thoughts. Madara jerked, startled, and looked up to see Tobirama Senju standing right in front of his desk, arms crossed and smirking down at him. “Care to share what’s on your mind? You’ve been staring into space for a few minutes now. As amusing as your facial expressions were, I must say I'm curious.” 

Automatically, a scowl twisted at his mouth. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he growled, looking down at his desk and aggressively yanking another stack of paperwork towards him, annoyed that the other man had apparently been standing in front of him for a while and he hadn’t even noticed, lost in thought as he was. He regretted this whole thing just because of the sheer amount of paperwork it came with. He thought being clan head and handling clan matters was annoying enough. But now he was responsible for helping manage an entire village. It was so much worse. 

“I would. That’s why I asked.” 

His scowl deepening, Madara looked up again, and glared at the White Demon, who stared right back, looking faintly amused. “I’m under no obligation to share anything with you,” he said finally, redirecting his attention to the first report. 

“Perhaps,” Tobirama hummed. “However, I do believe I am justified in wanting to know when it has something to do with me.” 

“If you think I’m thinking about you right now, you’re very much mistaken,” Madara bit back, signing off on the paper and setting it aside. 

“I _know_ you’re thinking about me.” The absolute smugness of his tone had Madara resisting the urge to leap across the table and strangle the man. Who he was supposed to be trying to court and seduce. Whose genius idea was that…. 

“You’re mistaken,” Madara said slowly, evenly. He was immensely proud of himself that his voice didn’t change in pitch or tone. He heard Tobirama snort. 

“Do you forget that I’m the most powerful sensor in the Land of Fire?” he asked. He didn’t even sound like he was bragging; more like stating a commonly known fact. “I can sense it when you look at me. I can feel how you react around me. I can feel the uncertainty, the indecision that constantly hangs over you. It only doubles whenever I’m near you.” 

Madara refused to look up, his hands tightening on the pencil he was holding, so much it was a wonder it didn’t snap. Two hands set themselves on the surface of his desk, large and pale and calloused from a lifetime of handling weapons. Madara stared at those hands, so he wouldn’t have to look at the man leaning over his desk. 

He didn’t regret agreeing to the Elder’s demands. He _didn’t._ He’d fulfill his duty. He’d protect his clan. Even if it meant killing his best friend and his entire clan. And their children. Children they were supposed to protect in this village that was doomed to fall apart and burn to the ground under the flames of war. 

Maybe he was second guessing himself, the Elder’s, their combined determination to continue the war for so long. Maybe he was questioning the methods chosen to bring about the end to the bloodshed. Maybe his considerations were stemming from seeing the village grow. 

If he had doubts, that was for him to know, and him only. He couldn’t be weak now. 

“Something is bothering you,” Tobirama went on. “Your chakra has been dark ever since we signed the treaty. Dark, weary. Do you regret our ceasefire, the formation of the village? Or does all of your concerns have to do with _me_?” 

Madara stayed quiet, and Tobirama waited. “You’re awfully chatty today, Senju,” Madara said finally. “It’s unlike you.” 

“A curious mind is an unsatisfied one. Are you going to answer me, or should I tell anija that something is upsetting you?” 

Finally, Madara looked up, glaring at the Senju who leaned over his desk, looking both smug and composed at the same time. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed. “Don’t you set your brother on me.” The very thought of Hashirama had him shuddering. His friend would hound him, all compassionate and understanding, all but forcing Madara to bear his heart and soul to him. 

“Then answer my questions and you won’t have to.” 

“I could just kill you.” 

“You won’t.” He sounded unbearably sure of himself. 

“And how do you know that?” Madara challenged, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward himself, tempted to let his Sharingan bleed into his black eyes. Tobirama didn’t look away. Instead, he seemed to lean just a little closer. 

“You need me alive, for this peace to work. And besides….” His eyes flicked up, over the high ponytail Madara was wearing. “You never did tell me about that incident.” 

“What incident?” Madara evaded, though he suspected he knew exactly that Tobirama was talking about. The Senju rolled his eyes, looking both amused and put out. How he managed to show more than one emotion at the same time in an expressionless way was utterly infuriating. 

“You know, it’s not every day I have my clan's greatest enemy suddenly declare that he thinks I’m pretty.” 

“You said it back!” Madara immediately defended. 

“And I meant it. You did, too.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes, I do. People’s chakras darken, just a little, when they lie, and brighten when they tell the truth. Yours burned brighter when you said it.” 

_How does this guy manage to know absolutely everything at any given time?_

Well. Yes, so he spoke the truth. Yes, he found the Senju attractive. 

Still doesn’t mean anything. 

He pursed his lips, trying to ignore how Tobirama’s eyes darted down to follow the movement. “What are you after, Senju?” he asked carefully. “As far as I know, you hate the Uchiha. You’ve made it no secret. So why the sudden interest, and demands to know what I’m thinking?” 

“Because,” Tobirama said lowly, leaning in further, until they were barely a foot apart. “I find you utterly _fascinating_. The bane of the Senju clans existence, and yet….” He paused, eyes narrowing in thought. “You present yourself so darkly. It’s amusing that you think you can get away with it.” 

….”What?” 

“I’ve seen how you look at this alliance, Uchiha. I’ve seen you watch the children from both our clans play together. You wanted this as badly as Hashirama, I see that now. So why do you continue to hesitate?” 

Madara swallowed thickly. Tobirama’s eyes flicked down to his throat. “Desire and reality are two very different things,” he said quietly. “How much longer will this last before it all falls apart? How long until you Senju turn on us, subjugate us? Perhaps I’ve let myself be enticed by Hashirama’s heartfelt speeches and childish dreams. But I am not foolish enough to think that the Senju are not hiding something, planning something.” 

It almost felt wrong, to subtly accuse the Senju of having ulterior motives to this alliance, when he and his clan most definitely did. Tobirama leaned back at his words, his blank mask falling back into place. Madara felt no shame in expressing his worries now. After all, the man in front of him was destined to die at his hand. 

~*~*~

“Uchiha.” 

His destined target paused midstep, glancing over his shoulder with a frown that darkened the moment he saw him. “Senju,” Izuna growled back in way of greeting, dark eyes narrowing. “I’m surprised you dare step so close to the Uchiha district.” His voice was mocking, annoyingly so. 

Tobirama sent him an unimpressed stare, sweeping by him and continuing on, letting Izuna flail and squawk indignantly before falling into step with him, scowling the entire way. “So, what, you just grab my attention and walk away? That’s rude, even for you, Senju. I would have thought that you-” 

“Quiet,” Tobirama broke in. Izuna’s voice was horribly similar to that of nails on a chalk board. “I have a few questions I want to ask you.” 

Izuna’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “ _You_ want to ask _me_ somethings? Well, colour me shocked. The great Tobirama Senju deigns to lower himself to the filthy commoners and plead their assistance in matters too lowly for him to bother with.” 

Tobirama very much regretted not slitting his throat when he had the chance. “Izuna,” he said stiffly, making sure to use his name rather than his clan name. According to Hashirama, using a person's clan name as a greeting was rude and impersonal. Not that Tobirama cared. “If you would get your empty head out of its habitat of clouds, maybe you’d understand that this is not a matter with which any Senju are familiar. Seeing as you’re one of the few Uchiha who don’t seem to be afraid of me, I regretfully must resort to asking you for clarification.” 

Izuna snorted. But he was starting to look curious, Tobirama noted with relief. Cat like, all of them. Unable to resist swatting at something intriguing. “Well, of course you came to me,” Izuna sniffed, trying and failing not to preen. “What do you need, then?” 

Tobirama hummed quietly. “I’ve been comparing Uchiha and Senju customs and traditions lately,” he began. Carefully, carefully, mustn’t let him catch on to his intentions…. “For historical value, seeing as the village will be a great mixmash of clans in the following years, with luck. I thought having distinction between the two founding clans core principles would help the generations to come understand the severity and importance of their alliance.” 

“Okay, and?” Izuna prompted impatiently. 

“And unfortunately, I’ve reached a block, and only an Uchiha will be able to...allow me to move around it.” 

“And that block would be….?” 

“Courting customs.” 

Izuna stopped dead in his tracks, and Tobirama ended up taking a few more before he also stopped, turning around and raising a quizzical eyebrow. Izuna was staring at him, gawking like a fish, eyes amusingly wide and startled. 

“You...What? Courting customs? Why the heck… Why do you need to know _that?”_

“Historical purposes,” Tobirama rephrased. Izuna’s frown deepened. 

“Why would future generations need to know about Uchiha courting customs?” 

“Even the most minute differences can mean much. I want to compare the customs of the Uchiha to that of the Senju.” 

Izuna squinted at him. “Are you sure you don’t fancy an Uchiha and are too embarrassed to admit it?” 

Tobirama snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now, are you going to tell me or do I have to go and intimidate some other poor Uchiha?” 

“And why didn’t you just ask Madara? You’ve been in the same building as him all day.” 

“I’m sure Madara has plenty of time and patience to discuss something such as Uchiha courting customs with me,” Tobirama deadpanned, sarcastically. 

Izuna snickered. “Ah, true. Aniki would probably try to set your hair on fire for that. Although, he did mention the other day that he likes your hair, so maybe he actually wouldn’t. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think he’d burn or maim any part of you. Too pretty, according to him. Freaken ridiculous. White Demon of the Senju, _pretty,_ my ass….” 

Tobirama tuned out the rest of Izuna’s grumbling, replaying what he just said. Soo, Madara really did think he was pretty. That was a pleasing development. “Izuna,” he interrupted, frowning at the other, carefully keeping his poker face in place. “Are you willing, or not? Otherwise I can just make something up to be recorded in the history books. I can’t guarantee they’ll be accurate, but perhaps they will suffice in the-” 

“NO!” Izuna snapped, jabbing a finger in his chest. “No, no, no, nope. Damn it Senju, I’m not going to let you tarnish the Uchiha’s name with some bogus lies! I will teach you _ALL_ of the Uchiha clan courting customs! I will teach you so hard, you’ll be pleading with me to stop. I’ll teach it until your ears bleed and you want to claw out your eyes! You will know _nothing_ but Uchiha courting methods by the time I’m done with you!” 

“Great,” Tobirama drawled dryly, sarcastically. “Be at my office in an hour then.” 

Without leaving room for a reply, he reached for the marker he left in his office, and hirashined off, leaving a sputtering, fuming Uchiha behind. 

~*~*~

“Don’t see what Anika thinks is so great about you,” Izuna grumbled, an hour later when he stormed into his room, carrying an armload of books and looking very put out. “So rude. Demanding help and answers and then just vanishing without so much as a simple ‘goodbye’. Honestly. Nii-san, you could do so much better.” 

Listening to Izuna’s whines, Tobirama fixed him another of his usual, unimpressed stares. “Get yourself ready to write, Senju!” Izuna declared, plopping the pile of books down on his desk with a loud _thud_. “School is in session!” 

Sage, help him. 

With a sigh, Tobirama interlaced his fingers, setting his elbows on the desk and propping his chin overtop his intertwined fingers. “I’ll remember everything important.” Izuna frowned at him, and he stared back, raising an eyebrow expectantly. 

Finally, Izuna snorted, yanking the first book off the top of the pile and setting it down, brushing some dust off the cover. “You better be grateful,” he muttered. “I spent a good 45 minutes digging up these ancient relics from the bottom of a trunk in Elder Mirao’s stash. Luckily she sleeps like an elephant. Unrousable.” 

He flicked the book open, pale fingers dancing over the pages, opening it to about half. “Alright. So, first things first, expressing your desire to begin a courtship.” He jabbed the paper with one finger, looking up at Tobirama with a devious grin. “If you want to court someone, you send them a pair of custom made gloves. If the receiver also desires to begin a courtship, they will wear the gloves in public to signify their acceptance of the courting offer.” 

“Gloves?” Tobirama broke in, frowning. That was….not what he was expecting. “Why gloves?” Izuna gave him an irritated glare. 

“Shut up and let me finish!” He flipped over a few pages. “As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted. The receiver wears the gloves to signify their acceptance, yada yada, because gloves were much more commonly worn a while ago then they are now. You don’t see many Uchiha wandering around constantly wearing gloves. But the tradition still stands. Formerly, the gloves signified who was courting who, but now they usually just signify that a courting offer has been made and accepted. It kinda sends a signal to other suitors that they are claimed already and have made a commitment to someone else.” 

“Okay,” Tobirama said slowly, nodding thoughtfully. Madara wore gloves all the time, but as far as he knew, he wasn’t being courted by anyone. May be best to find out. “So why does your brother wear gloves? Is he in a courtship?” 

Izuna snorted. “Hell no. Anija scares away all of his suitors very purposefully and meticulously. He just wears gloves to protect those baby soft hands of his. But, moving on! After a courtship has been offered and accepted, the next step is getting to know each other. This can usually be done in a variety of ways that are open to interpretation, but it’s highly suggested that both members of the courtship see each other in a variety of different situations, to gauge their emotions, their temperament, and their actions. So, you want to see them when they’re calm, relaxed, stressed, tired, happy, sad, angry, and so forth. See them at their best and their worst and see if you still want to court them.” 

“Makes sense,” Tobirama mused. It did make sense. People may present themselves very differently in front of others, or in certain situations. 

“Obviously.” Izuna shut the book, shoving it aside and grabbing another. Once he found his intended page, he leaned over, reading a few sentences. “And _’as you spend time together, you learn about each other, what you both like and dislike. Once you have this knowledge, show that you really understand it by giving courting gifts at random that pertain to their interests. This shows that you can be a dedicated, understanding, accepting, and listening partner.’_ Huh, well I guess that makes sense. So if they like painting just get them some paint brushes and boom, you’ve shown that you know their interests and support them. Easy enough.” 

“What else?” Tobirama prompted, as Izuna continued flipping through the book. “Why are you even relying on old books anyways? Shouldn’t you just know this?” 

“I want to make sure I’m right,” Izuna grumbled. “For historical accuracy. Stupid Senju…” He poured over the pages for a few minutes. “Okay, so, this is kinda repetitive here. Spend quality time together, find common interests and deepen them. Ah, I think you’ll find this one interesting.” He tapped one of the pages excitedly. “The Uchiha are always picky of their partners. They will rarely marry below their own power level, if that makes sense.” 

Tobirama glanced down at the page, tilting his head to read it upside down. “A show of strength increases the likelihood of a successful courtship?”

“Many shows of strength,” Izuna corrected. “You want to prove to your partner that you’re a match for them, and are strong enough to both meet them and stand beside them in battle. If you ever see Uchiha couples sparring, don’t freak out, they’re just…. ‘Retesting’ each other, so to speak.” 

“So what happens if one partner gets injured and can’t fight anymore?” Tobirama asked, frowning. This was interesting, but a little hard to wrap his head around. 

“It’s not just physical prowess,” Izuna said impatiently. “It has to do with strength of the body, yes. But it also involves the strength of mind, of heart, and emotions. A fighting spirit and will to live, to win and to thrive. That’s what will catch an Uchiha’s eye. Tenacity holds beauty in our eyes. You could be maimed, but if you survive, and thrive, you'll still hold appeal and value. Hopefully, by that time, the courtship has developed and deepened further, passing more into the romantic and loving field than merely courting. So even if you lose the will to fight, if your partner has grown to love you by then, they will stick with you, no matter what. We Uchiha don’t do things halfway, Senju. Once we’ve decided a courtship can work, we go all in and we don’t hold back.” 

“I see.” Tobirama leaned back thoughtfully, digesting this new information. “Is that all?” 

“Nope. But that’s the main gist of it. We really stress spending time and getting to know the other wholly and completing before leaving the courtship stage and going further into engagement and then marriage. Our clan wants us to be absolutely sure of our decision, so… Yeah. I think you get it by now.” 

“I do. Thank you, Izuna. Your input has been invaluable.” He glanced down, hunting over the surface of his desk for a sheet of paper to write down some of the ideas starting to formulate in his brain. Izuna gathered his books again, placing them in a neat pile. But he didn’t pick them up, or leave the office. He just stared at Tobirama, one eyebrow raised, foot tapping impatiently on the grund. 

“Can I help you?” Tobirama huffed, narrowing his red eyed gaze. Izuna snorted. 

“I just dumped a ton of Uchiha customs on you. It’s only fair you return the favour.” 

“And why would I do that?” Tobirama asked, unimpressed. Izuna rolled his eyes. 

“You were curious, I sated it. Now I’m curious. Gimmie some Senju secrets.” 

“They’re hardly secrets.” 

“Then it should be no issue for you to tell me some Senju courting customs.” 

Tobirama eyed him. Normally, he’d just ignore the Uchiha. But….Izuna told Madara absolutely everything. He’d surely tell his elder brother about this, too. And if he went out of his way to understand Uchiha courting customs, maybe Madara would take interest in the customs of the Senju. And that’d certainly make his self appointed task a lot easier. 

“Alright,” he relented, leaning back. “Fortunately, we Senju are not so needlessly complicated. I’ll keep it short and simple so your tiny brain can comprehend.” He ignored Izuna’s indignant squawking, and barreled on. “The Senju also value quality time, getting to know the other. We like to explore and learn about the others hobbies, and express interest and ask questions to show the intended that we are intrigued by how they spend their time and want to know more of how they choose to enjoy and entertain themselves. Additionally, it’s almost required for a courting pair to begin and finish a project together, to test their compatibility, their ability to work together, cooperate, and problem solve to find solutions to difficult problems. These tests show each other how they’d be able to work together to solve more issues that may arise in the future. I believe that is a far more practical approach than that of your clan.” 

Izuna snorted, hefting the books up into his arms. “How boring. Quality time and working on a project. No wonder you Senju are so dull.” 

“You’re welcome,” Tobirama said dryly, as Izuna spun on his heel and flounced out the office. 

“You too!” the Uchiha called back cheerfully, disappearing down the hall. He followed Izuna’s progress, until he was right next to Madara, no doubt spilling everything he learned to his brother. 

A little amused, Tobirama turned his chair to gaze out the window, thoughtful. He might know someone who had a talent for leatherwork…. Perhaps he could convince them to make a pair of gloves of his design…

Uchiha and their ridiculous courting methods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, the glove thing is apparently something that was done in Medieval Europe. I liked it, so I used it. I did so much hunting into different ancient courting customs. It was a waste of time, seeing as I just pulled everything else out of thin air. Urgh.


	4. Swept Up and Off and Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuna: *is frustrated*  
> Madara: I has it all under control.  
> Tobirama: bitch you thought

~*~*~

_‘Say I’m lost but I feel found, think you’re going to turn me. But you don’t see behind the shutters. You don’t WANT to see behind the shutters….There’s something dark inside. So don’t let in the light. Just don’t let in the light.’  
-Blackout, Avivia _

~*~*~

Izuna was frustratingly persistent. 

For the next 4 days since he barreled into his office screeching about Senju courting customs, he had revisited every day, giving him a _look_. Not to subtly hinting that Madara should maybe do something with this newfound information. And not to subtly reminding him of his task. 

Sue him for putting it off. He hadn’t wanted to do this from the start and he sure as hell didn’t want to do it now. He rationalized it by telling himself that he wanted to get to know Tobirama a little better so he could come up with some sort of strategy. It wouldn’t due to just run into a situation not knowing what to do. It was better to formulate a plan, approach it confidently and with a failsafe in place. Or 14. 

He watched Izuna pace back and forth, gently and quietly scolding him for his lack of enthusiasm. Like he needed the reminders. With a sigh, he propped his chin up on his hand, half closing his eyes and lazily staring at Izuna trying to wear a trail down into the floor of his office. 

“Izuna,” he said finally, just as his brother was preparing to launch into a whole nother rant. “Be patient. You know that...courting... takes time. I’m not about to just jump into it. I don’t even know if Tobirama would be interested. So give me a chance to get things settled and then I’ll...pursue the matter.” 

“Nii-san,” Izuna said with a sigh. “I know these things take time. But time is ticking! The Elders will start hounding you soon. They’re going to start asking you if you’ve initiated anything yet. And you have to give them something. Do you even have anything?” 

Madara shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I speak to Tobirama daily,” he said evasively. Izuna raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Have you spoken about anything besides work, outside of work? Mhm?” 

“No…” 

“Madara…. If you don’t step it up a little the Elders will think you’re not invested in our clans survival. In fact, it almost does seem like that! You can’t lose sight of our goal, Mads. You can’t get too invested in this. All of this village crap.” 

Madara stayed quiet, glancing down at the pile of reports waiting for his attention. Perhaps now was not the best time to mention that the Yamanaka and Sarutobi clan had reached out to him and Tobirama and Hashirama, asking to join the village. And that more clans were beginning to express interest as well. 

He really did have to pick up the pace. He went out of his way to avoid Tobirama if he could, keeping their interactions strictly work related. That certainly wasn’t helping. He was supposed to be starting a courtship with the Demon Senju, dammit. But…

He really didn’t want to. 

The village was growing. More clans wanted to join. 

His and Hashirama’s childhood dreams were really coming true. 

But, it wouldn’t last. He had to stop lying to himself and deluding himself with the belief that it would last. 

“I’ll get on it, Izuna,” he said finally. “I’ve been busy.” 

“Busy running a village that will no longer exist whenever you finally get your butt in gear and convince everyone you and the demon are in love,” Izuna snorted. Then his harsh gaze softened, and he came around the desk to pat Madara’s shoulder and card his fingers through his hair. “I don’t mean to push, Maddy. But I worry for you. You don’t seem happy.” 

“I’m fine, Zu,” Madara reassured, tilting his head back appreciatively. Izuna hummed, scratching his scalp gently. 

“If you insist. But hey, you ever need to talk about it, I’m here for you. You know that, right?” 

“I do. Thanks, chickadee.” 

“Stop calling me that, I’m not 4.” Izuna ruffled his hair, leading to Madara squawking and swatting at him. Izuna just laughed, latching onto him and flipping his entire mass of hair up and over his face, blinding him and very nearly suffocating him. Before he could toss it aside, Izuna glomped him from behind, shoving him forward in his chair. His hands darted around his sides, delving right into his ribs. 

Unable to stop himself, he shrieked with laughter as Izuna mercilessly tickled him, using his weight to keep Madara in place. Izuna cackled in his ear, relentless and unmerciful. Determined not to let his brother get the better of him, Madara wiggled out of his chair, blindly grabbing Izuna and enthusiastically twisting them both around. 

Izuna yelped, grabbing the front of Madara’s mantle, and unfortunately dragging him down with him as his ankles caught in the legs of Madara’s chair, They landed in an undignified heap on the ground, wrestling and playfully cursing. Distracted as they were, neither of them noticed the door swinging open or the person stepping inside and watching quietly for a few minutes until they cleared their throat meaningfully. 

Both Madara and Izuna froze, and Madara knew who it was before he even looked up. The cool, familiar chakra, swirling like a lazy whirlpool with the potential to become an unbridled hurricane. Wishing his senses were wrong, he slowly looked up, and winced. 

Of course, they were right. 

Tobirama Senju stared down at them, arms crossed over his chest, not bothering to hide the amusement written all over his face. Izuna made a squeaking sound from where he was pinned under Madara. 

“Ah….Afternoon, Senju,” Madara said awkwardly, pushing back from Izuna, scrambling to his feet in the most dignified manner he could and gracefully retaking his seat. He absentmindedly flipped his hair over his shoulders, horribly aware that it was probably a disaster and his face was probably burning red. 

Izuna wobbled to his feet in a much less graceful manner, red faced and huffing. “Izuna,” Tobirama acknowledged, inclining his head. Izuna just scowled back. 

“Demon Senju.” 

“Izuna, play nice,” Madara scolded, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together over his lap. “What do you need….Tobirama?” It was hard to say his name and not refer to him as “Senju”. 

“I need to discuss something with you,” Tobirama informed. He glanced at Izuna, and narrowed his eyes meaningfully. Izuna sniffed. 

“What, you can’t share it with me?” 

“‘Zu, it’s fine,” Madara muttered. “It’ll bore you anyways. You never want to hear it when I tell you anything, so I doubt you’ll want to hear what Tobirama has to say.” 

Izuna snorted. “True. Fine, then. I’ll see you for dinner, Anija.” He patted Madara’s hair once more, shot a glare at Tobirama, and flounced out the door. The moment it was closed, Tobirama quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“You look like you were dragged through a bush,” he informed dryly. Madara scowled automatically, reaching up in a vain attempt to pat down his hair. 

“Not all of us enjoy wasting time on our appearances,” he said crankily. Tobirama hummed, red eyes straying to the messy strands. 

“Not that you need to spend the time,” he said casually. “You’re lucky to be blessed with natural beauty.” 

Madara stared at him. Convinced he heard him wrong, he squinted at the Senju suspiciously. “I’m sorry?” 

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind.” Tobirama’s lips were slowly curling up at the corners. Madara blinked, taken off guard. 

“I… ah. Um.”

_Why does this keep happening? ‘Come on, Madara, you’re supposed to be confident, get your shit together.’_

“Well, it’s hard to feel that way when I’m often around someone as stunning as you,” he said finally, inwardly cheering himself for the response. Tobirama’s gaze darkened, just a little, and he stepped around the desk, leaning against the corner. 

“Is that so,” he mummered. One of his hands lifted, pinching a strand of Madara’s dark hair between his fingers, curling it a little, then pushing it back away from his face. “I must say, it pleases me to hear you say that.” 

“Oh, really?” Madara drawled, somehow managing to get the words past his suddenly constricted throat. Tobirama hummed in affirmation, his hand moving from Madara’s hair to his cheek, brushing down over his cheekbone and down to his chin. Madara stiffened instinctively. Tobirama noticed, and his hand lowered. Instead of returning to his side like Madara expected, he reached down, grabbing Madara’s wrist and lifting his hand. 

Something cool and leathery was pressed into his hand, and Madara glanced down, curious and surprised. A pair of black gloves greeted him. They were beautiful; midnight black, but the darkness of the material was broken was beautiful banners of red, orange, and yellow stitching woven together to create flames running up from the wrists, over the back of the gloves, and wrapping around each finger. Tiny, tiny rubies and topaz were embedded into the stitching, drawing attention to the flames. 

“In fact, it pleases me so much I went out of my way to learn a bit about you Uchiha’s traditions,” Tobirama went on, his voice lower. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain the intended meaning behind this gift.” 

His throat constricted further, so much he felt like he could barely breathe. His eyes flicked up from the gloves to Tobirama, and he stared at the Senju in disbelief. 

Yes, he now knew Tobirama thought he was attractive. But….this? _He_ wanted to _court_ him? Officially? Maybe Izuna hadn’t been barking up the wrong tree like he thought. _’This is going all wrong. I was supposed to initiate the courting. Dammit Senju, stop throwing me off so much.’_

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” Tobirama said after an extended pause. “Don’t keep me waiting long.” 

His hand lifted again, brushing over Madara’s cheek once more. Then, he turned about and left, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Madara stared at the shut door, then down at the gloves. Then back again. 

Well. This was unexpected. He set the gloves down on the desk, interlacing his fingers and propping his chin on them, staring down at the black leather thoughtfully. Perhaps he could use this to his benefit. Now, he didn’t have to worry about initiating the courting, or trying to figure out if Tobirama was interested. Clearly, he was. So much so that he was the one to take the first step. That certainly saved him a lot of effort. 

If Tobirama was so interested and forward in showing his intentions...He’d be able to get Izuna and the Elders off his back. He’d be able to begin the next step to the Uchiha’s plan. And they’d be closer to destroying the Senju clan once and for all. 

Madara narrowed his eyes, glaring at the gloves. The thought suddenly didn’t sit as well with him as it had before. 

_‘It’s for the good of the clan,_ he reminded himself. _Tobirama is the key to our survival_

~*~*~

Tobirama had never been a man to beat around the brush. The moment the gloves he designed were done, he had picked them up and swept into Madara’s office, unannounced, as always. He paused the moment he stepped in, watching with amusement as Madara and Izuna wrestled on the floor, cursing at each other and messing up each others hair and clothes. 

He observed their scramble for a few minutes before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Both of the Uchiha’s froze, and Madara’s head shot up, eyes widening when he saw him. “Ah...afternoon, Senju,” he said, looking a little sheepish as he rocked back on his heels, reclaiming his seat. Trying and failing to look composed. His hair was in a state of complete disarray, sticking up every which way. His face was flushed with exertion and embarrassment. 

_Cute._

He restrained himself until Izuna left in a huff. Hoping to get one of those terribly amusing reactions out of Madara, he said the first thing that crossed his mind. “You look like you were dragged through a bush.” Madara made a face at him, flushing even deeper. 

“Not all of us enjoying wasting time on our appearances,” he huffed, his gloved hand reaching up to try and tame his hair. It didn’t work, in the slightest. 

Tobirama hummed thoughtfully, eyeing those messy locks. Time to make his intentions known. “Not that you need to spend the time,” he drawled, pleased that his voice came out low and without a hitch to betray the nerves gnawing inside him. “You’re lucky to be blessed with natural beauty.” 

Madara stopped, and stared at him, dark eyes widening. Impossibly, his face burned even redder. “I’m sorry?” His voice came out high pitched, squeaky. 

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind,” Tobirama said truthfully, purposefully ignoring his question and apparent need for clarification. Madara faltered, apparently lost for words. Inwardly, Tobirama crowed at his success. Madara stammered out a pathetic excuse for a reply, and trailed off. Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smirking. 

“Well, it’s hard not to feel that way when I’m often around someone as stunning as you,” Madara said finally, seeming to get over himself. His dark eyes sparkled just a little with mischief. Tobirama leaned his head back a little, eyeing the Uchiha, letting his gaze narrow. Daring to take his chance, he stepped around the desk, moving slow and purposeful, until he was on the same side as Madara. He leaned against the solid wood. 

“Is that so,” he drawled, reaching out to finally, _finally_ take a chunk of that distracting hair between his fingers, rolling it around his digits. Sages, it was soft. It had no right being that soft. It was so...distracting. Tobirama resisted the urge to move closer and sink all of his fingers into it. As much as he wanted to play with it, maybe pull on it a little and see how Madara would react…

“I must say, it pleases me to hear you say that,” he said, as a way to distract his own mind from its little fantasy. 

“Oh, really?” Madara prompted, his voice low and coy. It absolutely did something to Tobirama. He pinched the hair tightly, grateful that Madara wouldn’t feel it, and got himself back under control. He reluctantly released the hair in his grasp, moving slowly and carefully, brushing Madara’s cheek with his fingertips. It was unfair how his skin was just as soft as his hair. 

Automatically, Madara stiffened. It made sense, Tobirama supposed. They may be at peace, but he was a shinobi still, and his greatest power came from his eyes. To have a former enemies touch so close to those precious orbs…. 

Tobirama lowered his hand, noticing how Madara relaxed again almost immediately, as soon as his hand was away from such a vulnerable spot. He curled his fingers around Madara’s wrist, lifting his hand. His other hand reached into his pocket, withdrawing the gloves he had just picked up, and he pressed them into Madara’s hand. 

Madara’s obsidian eyes flicked down curiously, and brightened. His fingers trailed over the leather, tracing the winding flames that swirled over the back of the gloves and swirled around the fingers. 

“In fact, it pleases me so much that I went out of my way to learn about you Uchiha’s traditions,” he went on, feeling the need to justify himself, just a little. Madara would be quick to catch on. He always was. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain the intended meaning behind this gift.” 

Madara’s eyes flicked up again, and he stared at Tobirama, mouth moving a little, but no sound coming out. At a loss for words once again. Tobirama was a little proud of himself for rendering such a quick tempered man speechless _again_. It was certainly quite a feat. 

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said after a time of Madara just staring at him, disbelieving and apparently too surprised to reply. He leaned forward a little, watching Madara’s eyes track his movements. “Don’t keep me waiting long.” He gently stroked Madara’s cheek again, once more marvelling at how deceptively soft his skin was. Then, before he could do anything stupid, he leaned back, and left the office, feeling Madara’s eyes burning holes ito his back the entire way out until the door shut behind him. 

Tobirama kept his cool all the way to his office. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, he stopped, digging his hands into his hair and tugging. Had he been too forward? What if he read into all of this wrong? What if Madara was just messing around with him? 

_‘Stop thinking like that,’_ he scolded himself right after. _’Your instincts have never led you astray so far. You know to trust your gut.’_

But still, he couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe….No. He didn’t make a mistake. He didn’t make mistakes, ever. And if Madara would accept him, maybe he’d be able to help the relationship between the Uchiha and the Senju grow stronger. There were too many potential benefits to second guess himself. 

Besides, if Madara accepted him, he’d _finally_ be able to bask in that gloriously warm chakra of his whenever he wanted. 

~*~*~

He left Madara alone for the rest of the day, and for most of the day after. Late in the afternoon, he finally focussed, sensing Madara in the marketplace, walking with Izuna. Before he could change his mind, he reached for his marker on the edges of the town center, and hirashined there. 

It didn’t take him long to hunt Madara down until he could see him. He kept his distance, for now, simply watching him wander aimlessly, listening to whatever Izuna was chattering about with a patiently exasperated expression. 

It was only when Madara paused, glancing at something at a stall that caught his interest, that Tobirama allowed himself to check. He followed the movements of Madara’s arm as he raised his hand to brush some stubborn strands of hair back from his face. 

He was wearing black gloves. Decorated with swirling flames and glittering gems. 

Tobirama turned, clenching his fists tight enough to dig his nails painfully into his palms. _‘Control yourself,’_ he mentally scolded, taking a deep breath and schooling his expression. 

Silently, he inserted himself into the crowd, weaving through the people there until he had a clear line to the Uchiha brothers. He quietly made his way towards them, pausing just behind and beside Madara. 

The other didn’t turn, but did tilt his head a little towards him. “I see you liked my gift,” he said lowly, leaning in to rumble the words directly into his ear. Madara shifted his weight just a little, and didn’t look at him. 

“I...They… Yes. They’re very...nice.” 

“So do you accept, then?” It never hurt to play it safe. Madara finally turned to him, holding up his gloved hands. 

“What do you think, Senju? We Uchiha don’t do things halfway.” 

“I’m aware,” Tobirama replied, glancing down and admiring how perfectly the gloves fit the others hands. 

“Then you have your answer,” Madara huffed, narrowing his eyes just a little. Tobirama quirked an eyebrow in response, and took a step closer, until there were only a few inches between them and Madara had to tilt his head back just a little to meet his eyes. 

“Good,” he drawled, reaching up to take one of Madara’s hands, running his fingers over the exquisite stitching etched in the glove. “Dinner, then. Tonight.” 

“Demanding much?” Madara quipped back. But he didn’t look bothered. In fact, he looked amused, intrigued. “Alright then.” 

Tobirama finally let his lips curl up into a half smile, not bothering to hide how pleased he was. “Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 6, then.” He started to step back, but then he paused. Before he could think better of it, he reached up, around the back of Madara’s neck, and grabbed a fistful of hair. “Put your hair up for it,” he requested. “Maybe toss a feather or two in there. It looked good.” 

He tightened his grip, daring to tug, just a little. Madara made a quiet, nearly unnoticeable sound, his eyes darkening. Tobirama’s grin widened, pleased with the reaction. And regretted it soon after. Great. Now all he’d be able to think about for the rest of the day was that pretty little noise. 

“See you tonight,” he said lowly. He reluctantly let go of that waterfall of black, stepping away. Before he or Madara could say another thing, he reached for his marker, and hirashined to his home, landing in the living room. He glanced at the clock. 

3 pm. Good, he had plenty of time to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama strikes me as much more confident and suave than Madara in these types of things.


	5. Don't Know What To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a date. That's it. That's the chapter.

~*~*~

_‘I want you. I’ll colour me blue, anything it takes to make you stay. Only seeing myself when I’m looking up at you.’  
-Blue, Troye Sivan _

~*~*~

At 5 minutes to six that very evening, Tobirama strolled up to the front door of the Uchiha clan heads' household, and knocked firm and rapid. If he were less confident and sure of himself, he might have felt nervous. 

There was a slight scuffle from inside, and then the door was aggressively thrown open, so much so that it slammed into the wall behind it. Izuna grinned at him, sharp and somehow lazy, from inside. 

“Heyyy, Tobiraaaama,” he greeted, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “Sooo, the history books, eh? Dirty liar.” 

“Izuna,” Tobirama acknowledged, inclining his head just a little and ignoring the rest of his words. “Madara ready yet?” 

“You can’t rush beauty,” Izuna snickered. Tobirama frowned at him. Izuna was acting...odd. Well, odder than usual. His chakra was slow, lazy, swirling inside of him with all the enthusiasm of a cat waking from a nap. He could smell something radiating out of the house. It was a pleasant smell, warm and tinged with spice. 

“Do I have to give you the shovel talk, or are you going to respect my brother's virtue?” Izuna went on. Now that he paid more attention, even his voice seemed off. But how….

“Izuna, leave him alone,” a familiar voice scolded, and it had Tobirama relaxing instantly. Until he realized that Madara’s chakra felt just as slow and lazy and subdued as Izuna’s. The younger Uchiha scowled, but stepped away from the door, just as Madara rounded the corner. 

Apparently feeling the need to be controversial, his hair was only half up. The upper portions were twisted into an elegant braid that rested heavily on the lower half, which was still wild and long and unmanageable. But the half braid pulled most of the hair back from Madara’s face, giving full view of his sharp eyes and thin eyebrows and high cheekbones. One of the thicker, shorter locks that always persisted on escaping any ties and curtained the right side of his face was woven with a pretty, silver and dark brown feather. 

But that wasn’t what held Tobirama’s attention. Madara’s cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes a little bloodshot, and far darker than usual. Tobirama frowned, leaning forward until he realized why. Madara’s pupils were blown wide, huge. His chakra curled even lazier, and the same pleasant scent emanated off him. 

“Are you high?” he asked in surprise. Madara gave him a blank stare, and his lip twitched, like he was trying not to smile. 

“Am I what?” 

Tobirama frowned even more. “High,” he repeated. 

“Hey,” Madara chirped back instantly. Then dissolved into a fit of giggles like what he said was the funniest thing ever. _GIGGLES. What the fuck?_

“High as the sky,” Izuna proclaimed, grinning at Tobirama’s flabergasted stare. 

“Um….” Tobirama stared at one brother to the other, absolutely lost for words. Why in all the great sages did Madara see fit to get high? 

“It’s your fault,” Madara grumbled, clumsily jabbing a finger at his chest. “Asking me out to dinner out of the blue. Seriously, Senju, ever heard of a waiting period? Yesh..” 

“Maddy was freaking out,” Izuna revealed, snickering. “So, voila. We relax. Now he’s ready to go. Shoo, shoo, enjoy your date, don’t forget to use protection!” 

“Wait a minute,” Tobirama demanded, as Izuna started shoving his...inebriated brother out the door. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Madara to wander around in the state he’s in. What if-”

“If something happens, I have you to fix it all,” Madara said breezily, nudging Tobirama aside and strolling out the door, surprisingly steady. “You wanted this date, Senju, you damn well better live up to it.” 

“I didn’t want a date with you high out of your mind,” Tobirama growled, grumpily turning to follow as Madara flounced down the stairs of the porch and paused in the street. 

“It’ll fade soon enough,” Madara reassured, staring rather intently at the house across from his. His dark eyes moved from one potted plant to the next, and after a minute or so of intense scrutiny, he nodded to himself, as if satisfied with what he saw. Apparently, the potted plants had his approval. “Where we going?” 

“Next time we go out, please have a clear mind,” Tobirama groaned. He snagged the back of Madara’s collar, turning him around and guiding him down the street. Madara let him with a lazy hum and a purposeful drag of his feet. 

“Your fault,” Madara mumbled, frowning at his feet. “Making me all nervous and what not. All your fault…” 

“I make you nervous?” Tobirama asked, intrigued. And more than a little amused. He couldn’t help but find the image Madara presented to be endearing. All loopy and dazed and lazy. None of his usual sharp suspicion and snappish replies. And while he did enjoy that, it was nice to see a softer, albeit higher, side of him. 

“So nervous,” Madara confirmed. Apparently he had zero filter in such a state. Ohh, Tobirama was so going to take advantage of this. “Like, sick nervous,” Madara rambled on. “The not nice nervous. More like death nervous.” 

“Why death nervous?” Tobirama asked, more than willing to encourage his lack of clarity for right now. 

“Because death,” Madara said seriously. “All of the death, Tobirama.” His voice took on a note of despair, and Tobirama sent him a look, surprised at the look of remorse on his face. 

“No more death will come, Madara,” he reminded. “We have our village, and we have peace. No one else will die needlessly.” 

“Needlessly,” Madara echoed, lifting his head to stare at the buildings all around him. “Everything is needless, if you think about it. We live and die needlessly. We fight needlessly. We love needlessly, needless, all of it. Existence.” 

“Melodramatic much?” 

“Absolutely. We Uchiha are superb at melodrama.” 

“Clearly.” Madara stopped walking, lifting an arm and pushing Tobirama’s arm away from his collar. 

“Where we going?” he asked again. Tobirama rolled his eyes. 

“A few clanless people have settled in Konoha,” he began, although Madara already knew. The Uchiha was already rolling his eyes. “A few have set up some little shops, and a few restaurants. I thought it’d be nice if we went to a place that isn’t run by one of our clan members.” 

Madara hummed, eyebrows furrowing, seriously contemplating something, apparently. “I agree,” he said suddenly. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tobirama gently grasped the raven's wrist, guiding him through the streets and the crowd to their destination. He was surprised that Madara dared to take mind altering substances right before he came. Sure, he proposed a courtship and Madara accepted. But he felt that this was an incredible amount of trust he was showing to him. To not be in your right mind or in full control of mind and body in front of someone who was just recently your enemy….

Madara stayed quiet for the rest of the walk, slowing down and staring at whatever would catch his eye until Tobirama redirected his attention. By the time they got to the little restaurant, he was pleasantly exasperated, and amused. Upon sitting, he immediately asked for some water. Madara didn’t argue when he pushed the glasses toward him, instead picking one up and sipping delicately. Thinking ahead, Tobirama quickly ordered for them too, ignoring the bemused look on the hosts face when he saw the two sitting down together. Even those not affiliated with a clan, everyone knew a Senju and an Uchiha didn’t just casually sit down for a meal together. 

“It’s fast acting,” Madara said after a moment, already sounding more lucid. “Doesn’t last long. Will wear off soon” 

“Then why did you take it?” Tobirama questioned, bemused. Madara shrugged a little, and stared at the condensation on the side of the glass. 

“So I wouldn’t run off and not come,” he admitted. 

“And why would you run off,” Tobirama urged carefully. Sue him for wanting to clean as much as he could from Madara’s head before he was all closed off and reclusive again. Madara finally looked up, his dark eyes a little brighter than before, clearer. 

“I am unconvinced this is a good idea,” he replied, waving a gloved hand vaguely between the two of them. “An Uchiha and a Senju entering a courtship? It is bound to end in disaster.” 

“I don’t think it will,” Tobirama refuted, shaking his head. 

Madara met his gaze. “It will,” he said again. His dark eyes hardened, convinced by his own words. Tobirama leaned back in his chair, watching Madara start to fidget with his gloves. The same ones that Tobirama had gifted him. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to convince you, and everyone else, that it won’t,” he said simply. Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“You seem awfully confident,” he said, almost teasingly. The drug was almost worn off, Tobirama realized, letting Madara’s usual self return. 

“You can’t get through life without it.” Madara snorted, rolling his eyes. At that moment, their order arrived. Madara’s eyebrow arched even higher as his was placed in front of him. Inarizushi. 

“How did you-” 

“I may have convinced Hashirama to spill it,” Tobirama cut off, with a smirk. Madara made a face. 

“Of course he’d sell me out,” he snorted, but he picked up his chopsticks and started poking around at the dish.

“It’s hardly selling out,” Tobirama shot back. Madara sent a rather disdainful look at his plate.

“At least mine is somewhat interesting,” he mumbled, pointing with one chopstick at the simple dish in front of Tobirama. Fish and rice, with a side serving of steamed vegetables. 

“There is beauty in simplicity,” he said loftily. Madara’s lip twitched, in a half smile. 

“Izuna told me of you Senju’s courting customs,” he said, rather randomly, plucking up a morsel with his chopsticks and popping it in his mouth. His dark eyes never left Tobirama, even as they both dug into their meals. 

“I figured he would.” 

“That’s why you told him in the first place, isn’t it? 

“Obviously.” 

Madara shook his head. Now that the drugs weren’t so distracting, Tobirama allowed himself to admire the style of his hair, and the feather woven into his long bangs. He looked softer than usual, and that softness was enhanced by the rather simple, dark navy mantle. It wasn’t high collared like usual, but left some space open around the base of his neck. 

The rest of the meal was spent in relative silence, with only a few brief exchanges between them. Tobirama didn’t mind; the silences that stretched were comfortable, not strained in the slightest. It allowed him to think, to admire, to wonder. 

Madara didn’t seem to mind the silence either. Every now and then, he’d glance up, dark gaze searching, accessing. Tobirama didn’t know if he found what he was looking for, but he’d always look away with a contemplative hum. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked finally, as they finished their meals and shoved their plates away. Madara laced his fingers together, propping his chin on them and gazing at him. It wasn’t a harsh stare, or an overly fond or adoring one either. It was just a long, thoughtful look. 

“I’m curious,” he said finally. 

“About what?” Tobirama prompted. Madara’s eyes narrowed a little, and he looked away. 

“Um. Dessert.” 

“You’re so full of crap,” he grumbled. Fortunately, he already knew of a little something Madara would never allow to become public knowledge. He glanced up, meeting the hosts gaze, and nodded meaningfully. The host smiled back, and disappeared. Luckily, Madara didn’t seem to notice, busy staring out the window, as he often did when he wanted to avoid a certain topic. 

“Have you given thought to what Uchiha you want to offer a teaching position to?” he asked in lieu of teasing like he wanted to. Madara hummed, giving him his attention again. 

“I have,” he said slowly, carefully. “I have a few names in mind that I intend to speak to this week sometime.” 

“We need to know if we have enough within two weeks,” Tobirama said thoughtfully. “Hashirama is excited to begin instruction at the academy.” 

“Of course he is. What of you Senju? Any contenders?” 

“More than you think.” Tobirama shook his head. “It’ll be a hassle to figure out who to offer the positions to. And then, of course, we have to consider the other clans that want to join. A delegation from both the Yamanaka and the Sarutobi will be arriving soon. The Yamanaka also informed us that the Nara and the Akimichi may be interested.” 

Madara’s eyebrows arched up. “The Nara?” he echoed, his surprise quickly morphing into thoughtfulness. “They’d be a good clan to have. Smart, the whole lot of them. Brilliant strategists, even if their fighting style is a little weak compared to other clans. We could use them.” 

“Brains can win over brawn,” Tobirama agreed. And then, ah, perfect timing. The host pranced by, setting down a plate between them. With a cheerful ‘Enjoy!’ he flounced off. 

“Tobirama,” Madara said slowly, eyes fixed on the plate. Tobirama resisted the urge to preen. “What’s this?” 

“You cousin may have mentioned your….fondness….for sweets. Said something about you having a swee-”

“I do NOT have a sweet tooth!” Madara fumed, crossing his arms and glaring at the sugar glazed dangos sitting innocently on the table. Tobirama brought a hand up to his mouth to hide his smile. 

“It’s common knowledge in your clan.” 

“It is NOT!” 

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” 

Madara paused, and stared at him incredulously. The last comment surprised even him. It had just….slipped out. After a moment, Madara made a disgruntled sound. 

“Well, we shouldn’t waste,” he said stiffly, reaching for a skewer and lifting it to his lips. He delicately plucked the first dango off with his teeth. He hummed pleasantly, closing his eyes and savouring the taste. Tobirama didn’t bother hiding his smirk now, as the other opened his eyes again. “It’s….acceptable,” he grumbled, making a face, even as he bit off another dango. 

“Just acceptable?” Tobirama questioned, pushing the rest of the dangos towards him. He wouldn’t touch them anyways. Madara wrinkled his nose. 

“I’ve had better.” Resolutely not looking at Tobirama, he finished off the rest of the sugary treats, failing to hide just how pleased he was. The fact that someone like Madara Uchiha, renown for his brutal battle efficiency and hot temper, was such a simp for little sugary dangos made Tobirama smile. Who would have thought. 

“Shall we?” he asked, as Madara licked the last bit of sugar off the dango stick. He looked away from the sight quickly. Madara hummed in agreement, standing with him. Tobirama paid for the meal, ignoring the host's questioning stare, and took Madara’s wrist to pull him from the restaurant. 

“What were you doing before you saw me today?” Madara asked suddenly, stopping where he was and staring at him. Tobirama paused, turning and raising an eyebrow. 

“Working on a new jutsu,” he said, tilting his head. “Why?” 

Madara bit his lower lip, and Tobirama absolutely did not follow the movement. 

Only he absolutely did. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Madara reached up and around, his gloved fingers carding through his white hair. He stiffened at the touch, automatically wary. But he stayed still, unable to deny his curiosity. Madara ruffled his hair a little, and drew back. A few flakes of ash stained the dark leather. 

“You need to wash your hair,” Madara said with an amused smirk, shaking the ash from his gloves. “What kind of jutsu, exactly?” 

A little embarrassed, Tobirama ran his hand through his hair, winching when he felt the ash still sticking to his scalp. “Ah. Well. Explosive tags, of a sort. I’m trying to increase their firepower, but… So far, no luck.” 

Madara looked intrigued. “How would you increase it?” he asked curiously. Tobirama tilted his head, delighted at his apparent interest. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. They’re infused with chakra, right? So how can we manipulate the chakra powering it to be more versatile, more explosive…” He tugged on Madara’s sleeve, urging him to start walking again as he spoke. Madara followed automatically, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Tobirama,” he said very seriously. “Your chakra is water natured. You’re trying to manipulate fire. Why do you think it doesn’t work?” 

“I can use all 5 chakra natures,” Tobirama protested, and Madara quirked a tiny, amused smile. 

“Yes, true. But evidently you can’t use fire nature quite as well. I think your solution would be to have a fire natured individual help you out. That way, you can use their chakra to power the tags. By increasing the fire with more fire, I would think it would work.” 

“And who exactly would I hunt down to help me with that?” Tobirama asked carefully. Madara gave him a look, like he thought it should be obvious. 

“Me, of course,” he sniffed, looking away. Not in disdain, but embarrassment. He could feel it in his chakra, and could it see in the faint colouring of his cheeks. 

“Are you asking me on a date?” he asked, not trying to hide the teasing in his voice. Madara crossed his arms. 

“It’s not a date! It’s two people working together to make….something...A project. Of a sorts.” Tobirama continued to stare at him, amused. “Okay, fine. Maybe kind of like a date. Idiot Senju…” 

“I’d be agreeable,” he said casually, looking straight ahead as Madara made a strangled sound. 

“Good, then,” Madara covered his bluster. Tobirama shook his head slightly, considering. Working with Madara to revamp the jutsu had the potential to turn out well, or terrible. But...The Uchiha was smart, probably just as smart as he was. If they couldn’t figure it out, no one would be able to. Imagine all the possibilities….all the jutsus he could come up with with Madara’s help. It’d be _glorious_. 

“Tobirama,” Madara said quietly, after a period of thoughtful silence. It was dark out, and they were almost by the Uchiha district. Almost time to part ways for the night. He hummed to signal his attention. Madara slowed a little, wringing his fingers together. His chakra flickered, and churned. Nervous. 

“Why do you want this?” he asked finally, still staring ahead as they walked, refusing to meet his gaze, even as he sent him a questioning look. “Why are you so...interested, in me?” Madara reiterated. “What do you gain out of this...courtship? Why do you want it? What do you want to come of it? And why with me? What is it about me that you find so-” 

He cut Madara off by grabbing his wrist, again, and yanking, pulling Madara back and around. Before Madara could snap at him or shove him off, he pushed the both of them into a side-street, carefully pressing Madara against a building, keeping his movements gentle so he wouldn’t trigger an instinctive response. 

“What do I want?” he repeated, stepping closer, so he could feel the heat radiating off Madara against his own skin. Madara stiffened, eyes narrowing dangerously. His chakra spiked, rolled, and settled just as quickly. Not moving, not attacking or pushing away. But guarded. It was only to be expected. 

“Have I not made my intentions clear?” he muttered, reaching up to toy with the feather woven into his hair. Madara shifted a little, with what little room he had, being wedged between Tobirama and the wall. 

“Can you blame me for being suspicious?” he asked quietly. Tobirama dared to shuffle even closer, until his chest was pressed against Madara’s. He was pleased when Madara didn’t react, other than to tilt his head back to stare up at him. 

“No,” he said, just as softly. “I can’t. It’s in our nature to be cautious. You asked me what I want, what I hope to gain out of this courtship. The answer is simply _you_.” 

Madara’s gaze was searching. “Why me?” he persisted. “Of all people, why me? Why would you choose me, out of all your options?” 

“Why wouldn’t I choose you?” Tobirama asked back. Daring to be bold, he let his fingers fall from his hair, brushing over his cheek, trailing down his jaw to his chin. He tilted his face up, and slightly to the side. Slowly, oh so slowly and cautiously, he leaned in, until his cheek was brushing against Madara’s, his lips barely a hair's width from his jaw. 

Carefully, like he was handling fragile porcelain, he pressed his lips against the underside of his jaw, other hand raising as well to rest against the other man's hip. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, breath warm against Madara’s skin. The Uchiha shuddered, inhaling shakily, softly. “You’re brilliant, and powerful. There’s few out there stronger than me. You can knock me on my ass whenever you want,” he whispered, daring to duck down lower and press his lips against a spot behind Madara’s ear, “which is _incredibly hot.”_

Madara made a quiet, breathy sound. “You get turned on by someone who can kick your ass?” he teased, a little breathlessly. Tobirama huffed out a dry chuckle. 

“Only if that someone is you.” He leaned back a little, adjusted his hold on Madara’s chin, and swept back in to finally press his lips against Madara’s. He moved slow, careful. Madara hesitated for only a moment before pressing back, one gloved hand reaching up to touch his cheek. Tobirama hummed encouragingly into the kiss, giving into the urges he’s had for ages, moulding himself against Madara, pressing him wholly and firmly into the wall behind him. 

Madara sighed softly, breath warm as a fiery wind, and turned his face away. “One thing at a time, Senju,” he said, his breath suspiciously quick. A little disappointed, but understanding, Tobirama leaned back, and stepped away, giving his cheek one last brush with his fingertips. Madara pushed himself away from the wall in the space given, avoiding Tobirama’s eyes, cheeks tingled with pink visibly even in the dark. 

Slowly, he edged past Tobirama, tapping his wrist with a gloved finger, and stepped back into the street. Tobirama followed dutifully behind, quickening his pace to walk beside him. In silence, they entered the Uchiha district, heading right up to Madara’s house. The Uchiha paused on the first step leading up to the porch, giving Tobirama an unreadable look. 

Then, he reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt, yanking him forward, and kissing him breathless. Just as quickly, he let go, and stepped back. “Have a pleasant night, Tobirama. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, he disappeared into his home, the door shutting quietly behind him. Moving without thinking, Tobirama turned, reaching for his marker and hirashining home. 

Standing in the middle of his room, he lifted his hands to his lips, tongue darting out to taste the faint hints of sugar left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Uchiha would 100% get high if they could. I thought it'd be an amusing little tidbit to help Madara calm down before his little date. 
> 
> Also, I got a tumblr prompt from Anonymous a few days ago, and is as follows: _'ok so wild idea but aybe? what if we have tobi and hashirama compete and fight for madaras attention, but madara cant see why he cant have both???'_  
>  Initially, I was a little bit unconvinced. But I keep thinking about it now, and decided to ask the lovely beings who encourage me <3\. So, thoughts on the prompt?


	6. What You Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things step up a notch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also includes prompts:
> 
> character in a fight scene: *distracts their otherwise equally good/better opponent by flirting* for Bourbabe
> 
> character in a fight scene: *pins their opponent down by straddling their waist and holding their wrists to the floor* for Tictacsss

~*~*~  
 _‘105 is the number that comes to my head when I think of all the years I want to spend with you. Wake up every morning with you in my bed, that’s precisely what I plan to do.’  
-Marry Me, Jason Derulo_

_~*~*~_

_FUUUUCCCKKK._

The moment the door was shut behind him and Tobirama’s chakra vanished and reappeared back on his own home, Madara all but sagged against the door, gloved hands surging up and grabbing huge fistfuls of his hair and _yanking._

He messed up. He was so, so screwed. 

A little bit of noise came out of the kitchen, and he heard the quiet padding of feet leaving the room and heading down the hall towards him. 

“Aniki?” Izuna asked, sounding startled. “Kami, you okay? What happened?” 

“Nothing,” he grumbled, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and pressing down firmly. One of Izuna’s hands patted his shoulder. 

“Ah. Was the date really that bad?” 

“Noooo,” Madara whined, despairing. He dropped his hands aggressively. Scowling. “No, it wasn’t bad.” Izuna raised his eyebrows. 

“Okay….then what’s the problem?” 

“It was _good!_ That’s the problem!” 

Izuna’s eyebrows rose even higher. “So….You’re upset, because you had a good time?” 

“YES!” 

He shouldered past Izuna, storming down the hall with the intention to sulk in his room. Izuna started laughing behind him, bending over and hugging his stomach, face turning red with exertion. 

“You-You, AHAHAHAHAH< ANIKI!” 

“SHUT UP, IZUNA!” he bellowed, slamming the door to his bedroom violently. It didn’t do a thing to block off Izuna’s howls. Madara felt no shame in ripping his hair out of its braid and chucking the feather across the room. As it was a feather, and as it was very light, it only made it maybe a foot or so before drifting slowly and lazily to the floor. 

Madara watched it land on the floor. Then set it on fire.

~*~*~

Madara was slouching in his office chair, absolutely not pouting at the pile of paperwork waiting for him, when Tobirama found him the next morning. The white haired Senju paused with his hand still on the door handle, raising an eyebrow. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Madara growled, not lifting his glare from the reports waiting for his attention. Tobirama chuckled softly, low and deep, letting the door swing shut behind him and strolling closer. Madara resolutely didn’t look up, even when Tobirama circled his desk, pausing just beside and slightly behind him. 

Long, slender fingers started sweeping through his hair, and Madara stiffened at the contact. “Relax,” Tobirama snorted, one hand dropping to squeeze his shoulder. “I literally kissed you last night, this shouldn’t make you so flighty.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Madara grumbled, forcing himself to relax, somewhat. Tobirama made an approving sound, working through the knots and tangles in Madara’s hair. Normally, the Uchiha were very tactile people. Most conversations began with touch. A lot of his people didn’t think twice about leaning against a clanmate or patting each other’s hair or shoulders. 

But with Tobirama it was weird. Wrong. He wasn’t Uchiha. He shouldn’t be touching him. 

But they _were_ courting. So Madara had to give him a little leeway when it came to maintaining his personal space. 

“Did you even sleep?” Tobirama asked after a few minutes. One of his hands moved from Madara’s hair to his face, brushing over his cheek. His thumb swiped slowly and briefly under his eye, tracing the dark shadow under it, before retreating back to his hair again. Bizarrely, Madara was grateful to the briefness of the touch under his valuable eyes. 

“Yes,” he lied, and Tobirama snorted, tugging slightly at the hair in his hands. 

“I know when you’re lying, remember? What’s bothering you?” He let go of Madara’s hair, and he immediately missed it, not realizing how nice it felt to have his fingers scratching his scalp and toying with his hair until he stopped. 

“Clan matters,” he said distractedly, finally summoning the will to grab the first report. “It’s fine now.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Tobirama said casually, moving to lean against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. Madara stubbornly made sure not to look up and watch how the muscles of his forearms and upper arms flexed and bulged with the movement. He had enough to distract him right now. 

Tobirama sat there for a while, watching Madara work in silence. Then, he brushed his fingers down his cheek, standing at the same time. “I’ll come back at lunch,” he said decisively. “We’ll try the other little restaurant that opened up.” 

“Yes boss,” Madara quipped sarcastically, finally looking up. Tobirama smirked, just a little. His fingers slipped down, pinching Madara’s chin, tilting his face up a little more. He leaned down, devious smirk growing. 

“I thought you liked being told what to do?” he drawled. 

Heat immediately rushed up, surely turning his face beat red. “I don’t - That’s not- You can’t just-NO!” 

Tobirama laughed, and the sound had no right making Madara squirm and shuffle in his seat. “Interesting. I’d love to test the theory sometime.” He leaned in further, lips brushing the corner of Madara’s mouth. Madara froze immediately, eyes widening at the proximity and contact. “See you in a few hours.” With that, he booped the tip of Madara’s nose with his index finger, smirked a little wider, and strutted out the door. 

Madara was left gawking at open space. Without realizing it, he put a hand over his chest, willing his suddenly pounding heart to just _slow down already._

What the sages was wrong with him? 

~*~*~

Seeing Madara’s flaming blush was far more satisfying that Tobirama could have imagined. His stuttered, failed protest even more so. Though he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to test the theory. Madara always responded so….enticingly when Tobirama lowered his voice a certain way, putting a bit of a commanding tone to his voice. 

Oh, he could do so much with that. So. Much. 

The possibilities were endless. 

Rather distracted, he strode into his older brother's office. “Anija,” he greeted, digging out a small stack of papers from his pants pocket. Hashirama looked up with a smile, more than eager to take a break from his work. 

“Tobi!” he said cheerfully, grabbing the papers Tobirama handed him and immediately setting them aside without looking at them. “I was meaning to ask you something…” 

Something about his tone had Tobirama eyeing him suspiciously. “No, I am not going to do your work for you.” 

“What? No, no, that’s not what I wanted to ask you.” Hashirama folded his hands, not bothering to try and contain his...gleeful excitement. “I’ve been hearing about something all morning,” his brother started slowly. “Seems you and Madara have been….spending some time together.” 

Tobirama fixed him with a blank stare. “Yes. We had dinner last night.” 

Hashirama squirmed and wiggled in his seat with delight, looking very much like he wanted to leap across the table and hug him. “That’s great! I’m glad that you two are such good friends! It makes me-”

“We’re not friends,” Tobirama cut off, crossing his arms and scowling at his brother. Hashirama immediately faltered, looking first surprised, and then upset. 

“But you….You said you had dinner? Together? If you weren’t friends then why-”

“I do not see him as ‘just’ a friend,” Tobirama reiterated. “I am trying to court him.” 

That had Hashirama very quickly shutting up, eyes growing wide and jaw flopping open. “I...You what? You? Courting _Madara? Uchiha?”_

“Yes, are you deaf?” 

Hashirama sputtered, gawked, and fumbled. It took probably 5 minutes before he could finally formulate a sentence. “Not that that makes me unhappy,” his brother started slowly. “In fact, I’m very happy you finally found someone you want to be with. But...why?” 

“He’s hot and I want him,” Tobirama said bluntly. Hashirama squeaked, looked horribly traumatized. 

“Tobi! He’s my best friend!” 

“And future brother-in-law,” he deadpanned. Hashirama rubbed his eyes, looking surprised again. 

“You’re really serious about this,” he mused, leaning forward. “But you’re not so shallow as to pursue him just for his looks. So, spill the beans.” 

Well great, now Hashirama was invested in this. Tobirama inhaled deeply. His brother wouldn’t give up unless he gave him at least something. “Madara is beautiful, and surprisingly kind. He’s driven to protect his clan and his family, and is willing to sacrifice to keep those he cares about safe. He’s also smarter than he wants people to think, and most of his temper is a front to cover up when he’s feeling embarrassed. Which is often because he’s very easy to embarrass. It’s cute.” 

Hashirama stared at him for a moment longer, then broke into a massive smile. He was up and leaping towards him a moment later, grabbing onto Tobirama and nearly crushing him with his enthusiastic embrace. “Oh, TOBIIIIII,” he wailed, very nearly in tears. “I KNEW you’d come around! My little baby brother and my best friend, oh kami, this is perfect! You’ll get married and adopt a bunch of kids and Mito and I will have kids and they can grow up together and go to school together and-”

“Patience, anija,” Tobirama grunted, wiggling out of Hashirama’s hold with effort. “I am not going to rush this. Madara is still unsure about all of this. I can’t move things along as quickly as the rest of the Senju. According to the Uchiha customs, the courting process takes much longer. While regretful, I will respect that.” 

“You’re such a good partner,” Hashiraa sniffed, patting Tobirama’s hair happily. “Do I have to give Madara the shovel talk, then?” Tobirama snorted. 

“Madara’s way too new to all of this to need the shovel talk,” he said, amused. “If you’re worried about anyone’s virtue being corrupted, worry about Madara’s, not mine.” 

Hashirama gasped, giving his little brother a flabbergasted stare. “Don’t corrupt my best friend!” he whined, grabbing for him. With a devious smirk, Tobirama reached for his marker and hirashined away. 

~*~*~

Lunch was a mostly quiet affair. He collected Madara right at noon, and the Uchiha silently walked with him down the streets. It was busy, being the middle of the day, and many people stopped to stare. The Uchiha and the Senju looked shocked at seeing them so close, and the delegations from interested clans didn’t seem to pick up on the confusion whatsoever. Sure, they looked curious, but not nearly as shocked as their respective clan members. 

Their expressions amused Tobirama greatly. And he very much wanted to see if they could startle the crowd some more. Maybe by taking Madara’s hand in his. Or kissing him senseless in front of them all. 

However, he doubted Madara would be okay with that. He was still wearing the gloves Tobirama gave him, so he supposed that would have to suffice for now. When they finally reached the little restaurant and sat down with their meals, Tobirama broached a subject he’d been wanting to bring up since yesterday. 

“When you’re done for the day, meet me at training ground 2?” he proposed. Madara blinked, looking up from his dangos with a curiously startled expression. 

“Why?” 

Tobirama resisted the urge to smirk. Time to follow up on Uchiha courting customs. “I want to spar,” he said, with an ‘innocent’ shrug. “We’re no longer at war, and I’m feeling restless. I want to keep up my skills.” 

Madara tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Good point. Alright, Senju. I’ll be there. It’s been a while since I wiped the floor with anyone.” 

Tobirama snorted. “We’ll see about that.” Madara’s lips quirked, like he was trying not to smile. 

“Oh? Awfully confident, aren’t you?” 

“I might have a trick or two up my sleeve,” Tobirama said evasively, delighted by the gleam in Madara’s eye. 

“I look forward to it, then,” the raven said, popping another dango in his mouth and smirking, just a little. 

Oh, Tobirama was looking forward to this. 

~*~*~*~

Excitement warred with nerves as Madara filed away his last reports and absentmindedly tidied his desk before heading out for the day. He hadn’t had a good fight in way too long. On one hand, he was thrilled to finally be given the opportunity. But on the other hand, it was with _Tobirama._

This whole courting thing was ridiculous. And maybe, just maybe, Madara was starting to tolerate his presence. Last night had been….nice. This morning had been...different. Lunch was also nice. And now he was going to see the Senju _again._

And for some reason, he couldn’t help but almost….look forward to it. 

He could put it off no longer. He left the office, avoiding Hashirama and everyone else he saw in favour of hurrying down the stairs and out the tower. 

Tobirama was already there. Because of course he was. 

The white haired Senju was sitting on the ground, manipulating a stream of water to bend and twist and dance around in front of him. Madara watched the water's movements as he strolled closer. When he was only a few feet away, the stream of water arched away from Tobirama and headed towards him, swirling around his shoulders, his waist, curling around one of his arms and brushing wetly against the skin exposed between the end of his glove and his sleeve. Then it dropped to the ground with a splash. 

“Afternoon,” Tobirama greeted, turning his head a little to eye him over his shoulder. Madara hesitated, then slowly stepped closer. 

“Afternoon,” he answered quietly. Uncertainly, he lifted his hand, resting it briefly on Tobirama’s head, carding his gloved fingers through his hair. Distantly, he regretted that he was wearing gloves, wishing he could feel the texture of his hair. Was it soft? Rough or coarse? As fluffy as it looked?

Tobirama hummed, apparently pleased with the touch, if the way he leaned against his hand a little was an indication. Madara drew his hand back after only a moment, a little embarrassed by his own forwardness. Tobirama didn’t protest or comment, just sighed softly, and stood up, turning to face him. 

“Taijutsu only?” he suggested. Madara made a face. He had been wanting to let off some steam. And smoke. And fire. Seeing his expression, Tobirama rolled his eyes a little. “Soon. But for now, we can’t destroy the training grounds before they’re done being fully constructed.” 

Madara snorted, looking away and _not_ pouting. “Fine,” he said sulkily. Tobirama laughed, just a little. 

“Stop pouting. As cute as it is, we do have something to do. Shall we?” 

“Not pouting,” Madara grumbled, but mimicked Tobirama as he fell into a ready stance. He kept his Sharingan deactivated. For now. 

Tobirama smirked, arms up in guard, red eyes narrowed. Madara leaned back on his heels a little, and then rocked back onto the balls of his feet, waiting. Contrary to popular opinion, he could be patient. He himself had never fought Tobirama before, so he preferred to let the white haired man make the first move. 

Tobirama seemed to realize he was waiting for him. His arms lowered just a little. “So willing to give up control,” he drawled, voice far too low and rumbly for a normal conversation. “Would you do the same in bed?” 

_”What?”_ he squeaked, shocked at Tobirama’s boldness. A moment later, a foot viciously connected with his ribs, sending him reeling back from the blow. Tobirama didn’t give him a moment to recover. He was on him like a mad dog, not holding back any punches or kicks. His Sharingan whirled to life, and it was only thanks to its ability to predict movements that Madara was able to block most of Tobirama’s attacks. But he couldn’t begin to land one of his own, being so hard pressed to defend himself. 

At long last, he twisted to the side, and handspringed away to a safe distance, trying to fight down the furious blush he was sure was darkening his cheeks. Given Tobirama’s smug expression, he was failing. 

“You can’t just say things like that!” he protested, taking the initiative this time and charging in. Tobirama may be considered the fastest shinobi in the Land of Fire, but Madara was quick too. He felt a surge of satisfaction when his fist connected with Tobirama’s sternum, knocking him back and driving the wind out of his lungs. He successfully turned the tables, and managed to land a few hits while blocking a number of Tobirama’s. 

His Sharingan swirled, and he caught a rare opening in Tobirama’s near perfect defense. Taking the opportunity, Madara ducked under a punch that probably would have knocked him out, surging upright again once past Tobirama’s guard and grabbing the front of his shirt. That stupid black shirt that was way too tight to be decent. 

With a clever twist, he angled his hips past Tobirama’s, edging his right hip behind Tobirama’s, ducking under the Senju’s arm, while keeping his iron grip on the mans shirt. He kicked his right foot back hard, slamming his heel against the back of Tobirama’s knee, causing his leg to buckle. 

He took Tobirama down, hard, slamming him onto his back. Not to be outdone, Tobirama grabbed his collar as he went, taking him with him. They landed in a tangle of limbs, and Madara swore, gabbing his elbow into Tobirama’s ribs, twisting like a snake and wrenching away. Tobirama grabbed his belt, yanking him back and rolling them over, seeking to pin Madara down. 

Aw, hell no.

With a grunt, Madara surged up, sliding his arm up along the side of Tobirama’s neck, bending oddly at the elbow, hooking his forearm around the back of his neck and latching onto the fabric of his shirt over his other shoulder. With the hold secure, Madara heaved, shoving Tobirama’s head down to the ground beside his hip. 

Tobirama stubbornly braced himself with his hands pressing against the ground on either side of Madara’s hips, grunting with the effort. Then, one of his hands shot up, grabbing Madara by the nape, twisting into his hair, and _yanking._

Madara let out a strangled sound, automatically arching back to relieve the pressure, and Tobirama wiggled free of his hold, finally managing to roll over him, pressing his shoulders down the ground. “Who knew you could make such pretty noises?” he teased, leaning down purposefully. 

Madara growled, feeling himself flush, wiggling beneath Tobirama, testing his hold. It was pretty good. Solid, firm. But every hold had a weakness. He let himself grin, wide and feral. Tobirama only had time to blink, a little startled by his display. 

Then, Madara was twisting, bending skillfully, sliding his legs up along Tobirama’s sides, over his ribs and under his arms, before straightening them to hook his ankles against the front of his shoulders. “Eat my dust,” Madara purred, and flexed as hard as he could. Tobirama let out a yelp as Madara slammed him down on the ground with his legs. 

Moving quickly, Madara twisted his legs free, scrambling to his feet and putting a few feet between them. Tobirama looked dazed, but not in the way Madara wanted. More like starstruck. “Flexible,” he breathed, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Madara wrinkled his nose. 

“Get your head out of the gutter!” he screeched, when Tobirama very blatantly eyed his legs. Tobirama hummed vaguely, standing up and brushing the dirt off of him. He started towards him slowly. Bizarrely, Madara found himself thinking of a big cat stalking its prey. 

“Care to give me a more personal demonstration some day?” Tobirama made no effort to hide his leer, and Madara felt his blush return tenfold. 

“What? NO! You idiotic, perverted-”

Tobirama cut him off with a mad lunge. Thanks to the Sharingan, Madara twisted to the side at the last second, ramming his elbow into Tobirama’s side as he flew past him. Tobirama grunted at the impact, skidding to a halt and sweeping out at Madara’s legs. Madara managed to dodge, falling for the feint, and then got a fist right in the nose. 

Oh, great sages. Blood trickled out of his nose like a miniature river, and he stumbled back. Tobirama didn’t give him the chance to recover, following up with a punch to the underside of his jaw that had his head snapping back. Some of the blood from his nose changed direction, changing from falling down his face, to up. 

Irritably, Madara wiped the blood away, and succeeded in coating his eyelashes with the redness. It was _distracting._

Alright. Enough was enough. 

As Tobirama swung back in, Madara bent his knees, hands shooting up. He grabbed Tobirama’s shirt as he got close enough, and let the Senju tackle him to the ground. Just as his back hit the ground, he brought his legs up, set them against Tobirama’s chest and belly, and kicked, throwing the Senju over his head to send him crashing down on his back. 

Normally, in a sacrifice throw, you let go of your opponent as they flew over you. But this time, Madara kicked himself off the ground at the same time, using Tobirama’s momentum and his hold on his shirt to flip backwards, following Tobirama’s tumble.

As Tobirama crashed into the ground again, Madara perched over him, straddling his waist, grabbing his wrists at the first opportunity and pinning them on the ground next to his head. 

Tobirama wheezed, groaning at the hard landing, and blinking slowly up at him. Madara inhaled deeply, trying to control his breathing. “I win,” he declared, letting his Sharingan deactivate. Tobirama just stared up at him, almost wondrously. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, red eyes bright. Madara stared down at him for a moment, then let go of his wrists, which he had held like shackles. Just as he moved to get up, Tobirama’s hands shot down to his thighs to stop him, nails digging into the muscles through the fabric of his pants. It automatically had Madara jerking a little, his own hands curling into Tobirama’s shirt. 

“Rematch?” Tobirama offered, somewhat breathless. Madara sincerely doubted it was from their little spar. He wiggled a little bit on top of him, suspicions confirmed when Tobirama hissed, head thunking back to the ground and biting his lip. His nails dug painfully hard into his thighs, and much to his surprise, he found that he….didn’t actually mind it. 

“I doubt it’s a rematch you really want,” he found himself saying. He was surprised at himself, even when he felt heat on his cheeks again. Tobirama gave him a long, long look. Then one of his hands left Madara’s thigh, sliding back to his posterior leg, and then up, shamelessly groping his ass. 

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” he muttered, as Madara shuddered at his touch. Embarrassingly, Madara actually...kinda liked it. He bit his lip, hard, to refocus himself. 

“Rematch it is,” he decided, breath hitching when Tobirama’s hand pinched pleasantly. “It’s fun to kick your ass.” 

“If I get to see you like this whenever you do I am more than willing,” Tobirama declared. Madara twisted, ducking his head so his hair could hide his embarrassment, and had to forcefully pry Tobirama’s hands off him before he leaped away to make his escape. 

Tobirama sat up slowly, red eyes slightly darker than usual. His gaze never left him as he stood up, straightened his clothes, and took up his stance. “Well then, Madara,” he said, clearing his throat. Then he grinned, sharp and devious. “Let’s test your stamina.” 

The very obvious innuendo had Madara sputtering out a vague protest. Screw it, he decided right after. Tobirama would make a great punching bag to work off his embarrassed frustrations. 

Activating his Sharingan, Madara swung in, ignoring how Tobirama’s excited grin made his stomach twist and clench inside him. 

He still hated the Senju. 

He also had a very close relationship with Denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If no one is gonna give me flailing embarrassed Madara and cool and confident and suave Tobirama then I'll do it myself, dangit 
> 
> *also Madara has FEELINGS*


	7. Fires Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spar some more, they kiss, they chat. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I ran out of ideas for right now. So.   
> Also I barely edited or proofread this, so it may have some mistakes.

~*~*~  
 _’I love the smell of gasoline. I light the match to taste the heat. I’ve always liked to play with fire.’  
-Play with Fire, Sam Tinnesz _  
~*~*

In hindsight, inviting Madara to a spar wasn’t his brightest idea. Nor was his continuation of the spar after Madara floored him the first time. 

Especially seeing how all he wanted to do, all he could think about, was dragging Madara home and acquainting him with his mattress. Intimately. VERY intimately. 

However, Tobirama doubted the Uchiha would like it if he just straight up teleported them to his room and acted on his not so hidden desires. He’d probably get his house burned down. But, he also doubted that Madara would like it if he went too slow, acted too careful, treated him like he was fragile. 

Madara was flighty and cautious. Tobirama appreciated a challenge. 

He’d be able to get away with a little bit before Madara snapped at him. 

His arm trembled, barely blocking a potentially lethal kick that would have nailed him in the side of his head. He automatically grabbed the ankle next to his face, sliding his arm up to trap it in his armpit, and twisting. 

Madara swore softly, hopping on one foot to maintain his balance, letting Tobirama take him along. For about half a second. Then he was dropping like a rock to the ground, grabbing Tobirama by the front of his shirt, again, setting his other foot in the center of his chest, and throwing him over his head once more. 

Tobirama groaned as he hit the ground hard, yet again that day. He was going to be black and blue by the end of this. And not in the fun way. 

The both of them got back to their feet, eyeing each other, testing the waters. Madara had been content to let him act first last spar, but during this one he was much more bold, having gotten used to Tobirama’s style. 

He anticipated the rush of movement, and then Madara was in his space, red eyes gleaming. Before, seeing those burning Sharingan’s made Tobirama wary, nervous. But now, it just made him excited. It was a nod to his own skill that Madara felt the need to use his Sharingan against him. 

Tobirama grabbed his wrist, knocking it aside just a little, and Madara’s gloved knuckles grazed his cheek. Using his hold, Tobirama pulled, once again feeling that thrill rush through him at the difference in their size, and hauled Madara closer. 

Much to his surprise, Madara went willingly. Then, in a move that Tobirama missed, there was a leg wrapped around his neck, the other hooked over his shoulder, a hand in his hair and another on his jaw, and a heavy weight on his shoulders. 

A heartbeat later, and he was face down in the ground once more. Ankles crossed over each other in front of him, and his neck was suddenly squeezed, clamped between a pair of muscular calves. His opponent perched on his back, and his arms were twisted behind his back, quick and painful, held against his captors chest. 

Slowly, the legs began to squeeze, contracting on the neck between them, effectively cutting off Tobirama’s breath. He twisted and wiggled, but Madara’s hold was firm, unrelenting. 

Normally, he’d fight until he passed out or got free. But, what the heck. “Yield,” he wheezed. “YiELd.” 

The legs tightened a little more, then let go. His wrists were released, and the weight on his back shifted, but didn’t leave. With a grunt, he set his palms down on the ground, and shifted around a bit. Madara didn’t move. 

He twisted around under the other, until he was on his back, and lifted his hands to rest his hands on Madara’s thighs, bracketing either side of his hips. A mirror image to their first spars ending. 

Sharingan deactivated, Madara stared down at him, cheeks slightly flushed, hair mussed up from the fight. Wild and untamed. “Good try, little Senju,” he drawled. 

Unthinkingly, he reached up, brushing Madara’s bangs back from his eyes. The other didn’t move; just continued to stare down at him quietly. “Who are you calling little?” he growled, carefully sitting up, pushing Madara back a little so he was straddling his lap and not his stomach. 

Madara stiffened, and relaxed again just as quickly. Tobirama moved his hands, so they were resting on his hips now, letting the raven get used to his touch. Then, carefully, he brought one hand up, over his abdomen, his chest, up the side of his neck, and back to slide over his nape. His fingers twisted into the hair at the back of his neck. 

Madara’s dark eyes glittered, half lidded, lazy. And Tobirama lost his reservations. 

He surged up, both hands burying into Madara’s hair, and clashed their mouths together, hard and messy. Madara made a sound, either out of surprise or protest. Tobirama didn’t know, and he didn’t particularly care either. 

It took a moment, but Madara responded with just as much enthusiasm quite quickly. The leather of his gloves tickled his skin as he worked his hands under his shirt, and Tobirama shuddered at the touch. 

He pressed a little closer, looping an arm around Madara’s lower back, shifting a little, getting one leg under him. Then he pushed forward, toppling Madara onto his back, reversing their positions, and making himself comfortable between his thighs. 

Madara’s eyes flew open at his movements, and he stiffened noticeably. His mouth opened, like he was about to protest, snap at him to back off. Tobirama didn’t give him a chance, leaning down to firmly slot their mouths together again, one hand on the ground by Madara’s head, the other trailing down his side, coming to rest on the crease where his hip met his thigh. 

Finally, after a minute of him gently encouraging him to reciprocate, Madara gave him, sagging beneath him, relaxed and pliant. A hand looped around his neck, urging him closer, and his other returned to its earlier adventure of working up his shirt. 

Tobirama groaned quietly, pressing closer and sighing blissfully into Madara’s mouth, warm and soft. The gloved hand under his shirt, tracing up his torso, finally found a hardened nipple, and tweaked it, hard. Tobirama jerked, hips rocking forward instinctively. 

“I think you’ll find,” he rumbled, pulling away a little to breath into Madara’s ear, “that none of me is _little._ So unless you want to find that out firsthand _right now,_ you’ll take your hand out, Madara.” 

Madara made a choked sound, but at first didn’t move. Then, his gloved fingers pinched his nipple once more, and slowly withdrew, trailing enticingly over the muscles of his torso. “Stop teasing,” Tobirama demanded, drawing Madara’s mouth back to his, licking his bottom lip, then taking it between his own and sucking. At the same time, his fingers tightened in Madara’s hair, tugging. 

Madara _whined,_ high and drawn out. It was enthralling. Tobirama drew back quickly, staring down with a rapidly widening grin at the deep blush spreading over Madara’s face and down his neck. 

The other artfully evaded his delighted gaze, flushing even deeper. “You have better things to do then stare, Senju,” he growled, reaching up to grab Tobirama’s face and haul him back down. Tobirama grinned into the kiss, letting out a breathy chuckle at Madara’s frustrated growls. 

“Nothing wrong with appreciating the view,” he muttered, moving down from Madara’s mouth to his jaw, licking along the underside of it. 

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Madara hissed, even as he tilted his head to allow him better access. Tobirama rewarded him with a hard suck, pulling the collar of his infuriatingly modest mantle out of the way to do so. 

“Not really,” he corrected. “It takes a lot to embarrass me.” 

“You have no shame,” his partner groaned, his voice hitching higher into a startled gasp when he added his teeth to the equation. 

“I have nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Madara jerked a little when his hand moved from the top of his thigh to the inside, stroking up and down the firm muscles there. “Should you really be doing this in public?” he questioned, dark eyes clearing a little, a frown starting to mar his pretty face. “What would your clan say if they saw us here, mhm?” 

“They’d be jealous that I have you all to myself,” Tobirama replied uncaringly, nipping the other side of his neck to give it a matching bruise to the mark he had made on the first side. “Let them see, I don’t care. I don’t mind showing you off.” 

Madara twisted a little. “I am no prize,” he growled, hands moving to his chest, pushing. Tobirama didn’t move even a centimeter, drawing back and tilting his head at the other man. 

“No,” he agreed. “A prize is won, not given. But you’re willing to give to me, aren’t you? Your time, your attention….Some day, maybe you’ll give me more.” 

Madara stopped squirming, and instead covered his face with his hands. “Stop that!” he screeched, voice muffled through his hands. 

“Stop what?” Tobirama asked innocently, but with a knowing grin. He pulled Madara’s hands away, holding them to his chest so they wouldn’t hide the view. 

“Stop being so…. So, _this!”_ He tugged a little at Tobirama’s grip, like he wanted to wave his hands around to magnify his point. 

“What’s ‘this’”? He asked innocently, not bothering to hide his amusement. Madara wrinkled his nose a little. _Cute._

“Just...this. All nice and touchy and weird!” Tobirama smirked, and finally had mercy, letting go of his hands. 

“I don’t know how you Uchiha act when courting, but it's common among the Senju, and pretty much every single other clan, to compliment each other. Besides, if this is how you react everytime I say something even somewhat nice to you, I’ll gladly continue.” 

“Urgh, gross.” Madara’s hands came to rest on his chest again, and he pushed a little. “Get off, you’re heavy.” 

“Say please.” 

“NOW!” 

“We’ll work on that, then.” Tobirama sat back on his heels, letting Madara sit up, but not quite moving from his spot between his knees yet. “Dinner?” 

Madara brushed some hair back from his eyes, and frowned, just a little. “I...Isn’t that a little much, for one day?” 

Tobirama was quick to crush a swell of disappointment. “Too much for you right now?” he asked quietly. Madara nodded, and Tobirama quickly moved back, taking Madara’s wrist and tugging him to his feet as he stood up. He released him the moment they were upright, and stepped back. “Apologies. If I ever move too fast, please tell me.” 

Madara nodded, a little absentmindedly, and adjusted his gloves, tugging until they sat straight again. “It’s not too much,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just….” He trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to gather his thoughts. 

“I understand,” he said gently. “You Uchiha like to take your time. And we don’t know each other all that well. If you want to slow down, I’ll respect that.” 

Madara looked like he was fighting an internal battle. “Well….Yeah, okay. I’m just not used to...all this.” He waved a hand about vaguely, as if that could capture what he meant. 

“I get it. Can I at least walk you home?” 

“If you insist. Such a gentleman.” There was a definite teasing note in Madara’s voice, and it immediately settled him. Madara simply wanted to slow down; he wasn’t calling off the courtship. So why did he immediately worry that he would?

“Let’s go, then,” he said, carefully keeping his tone and expression neutral. Madara hummed, turning with him. Together, they left the training ground, heading back down to the village. As with before, people stared at the two of them walking together, even more so now that word of the first instance had spread like wildfire. 

Madara didn’t seem to notice; or maybe he didn’t care, eyes far away and distant in thought. “Tomorrow,” Tobirama started, waiting until Madara focussed before continuing. “Join me in my lab?” 

Madara blinked, once, twice, before understanding dawned. “Ah. The jutsu you told me about?” 

Tobirama nodded. “I’ve given thought to your suggestion, and I think it will work. I’ve been wanting to test it out. Soon.” 

Madara hummed. “Alright. I can make tomorrow work. I have a meeting with the Elders in the afternoon….” 

“Are you expected at the tower?” 

“I can miss a day. I got ahead this afternoon, so I’m sure it’s not a huge deal if I slack off a bit.” 

“Good. I’ll come for you in the morning then.” 

Madara sent him a look. “Tobirama. I can walk myself, you know. I am not incapable.” 

“I never said that,” Tobirama protested. “Nor implied that. I simply like accompanying you.” 

The Uchiha gave him a weird look, again, and turned away. But not quick enough for Tobirama to miss the shade of pink dusting over his skin, fetching in the slow fading light of the setting sun. “Ridiculous, you Senju,” he grumbled. “Fine, whatever. Come in the morning. Maybe I’ll give you breakfast.” 

“I’d like that,” Tobirama decided, eagerly taking up the chance. If he couldn’t have another dinner with him, then he’d gladly have breakfast instead. They were quiet for the rest of the walk back to Madara’s, and he paused before the steps leading up to the house. 

Madara stepped up one, and turned, glancing around quickly. There were a few other Uchiha nearby, but not too close. Carefully, he reached out, gloved hand digging into his shirt, tugging him forward carefully. Tobirama went willingly, tilting his head back to meet Madara’s lips for a gentle kiss, as the raven was standing on a stair which made him taller than Tobirama for once. 

Madara stepped back all too soon. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly, stepping up the rest of the stairs. He paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing back at him over his shoulder. Then he smiled, a small, gentle smile that took Tobirama’s breath again. A moment later, and he disappeared into his home. 

Tobirama turned slowly, wishing he had some sort of visual jutsu that allowed him to take screenshots of what he saw. He’d very much like to remember that soft smile for the rest of his life. 

His senses pinged, alerting him to a familiar presence. He glanced up, giving Izuna his usual blank stare. The Uchiha was leaning against the side of the neighbouring building, a wicked grin on his face. He glanced at the door his brother had disappeared through, then back at him. His grin widened, and with a cheerful, almost mischievous wave, trotted around the back of the house and vanished into it, likely taking a back door. 

Tobirama was admittedly a little surprised. He had figured Izuna would be furious with him courting his brother. He had at least expected some threats and potentially harmful pranks. 

Izuna’s lack of reaction was...concerning. 

He resolved to ask Madara about it in the morning, and hirashined off to his lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll get there, just be patient.....


	8. Down the Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We met a certain someone :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos <3   
> And my apologies for how long this took! I wanted to try and get a chapter posted every 3 days or so. And it ain't happening!

~*~*~

_‘Midnight into morning coffee; burning through the hours talking. I like me better when I’m with you.’  
-I Like Me Better, Lauv ___

__~*~*~_ _

__When Tobirama came to escort Madara to his lab the next morning, he was surprised when his patient knocks on the door went unanswered. Curious, he extended his senses, picking up on Madara’s starbright chakra behind his home. He wasn’t alone. A tiny little ember sputtered beside him._ _

__Intrigued, Toirama edged around the modern house Madara called home, until he was in the backyard. And cue non-existant ovaries bursting in…._ _

__3…_ _

__He rounded the last corner, which would give him a clear view of the large backyard._ _

__2…_ _

__Madara stood with his back to him, in front of his aviary, where he kept a number of birds of prey._ _

__1…_ _

__A tiny child stood right beside him, little hands fisted in the fabric of his pants, gazing up in awe at the large falcon perched on Madara’s wrist._ _

__0._ _

__Tobirama stopped in his tracks, watching with wide eyes as Madara crouched down next to the little boy, carefully balancing the falcon upon his forearm, then reaching out with his other hand, taking the boys, and raising it to the falcons back, letting the little Uchiha pet the bird._ _

__As the boy reverently stroked the bird's feathers, Madara glanced back over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting his. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Madara nudged the boy lightly with an elbow, and stood, taking the falcon up with him. The little Uchiha whined in protest as Madara nudged the bird back to its perch._ _

__“Time to go home, Kagami,” he heard Madara say quietly, leaving the aviary doors open and ushering the boy around. Kagami pouted hugely, his bottom lip nearly touching his chin._ _

__“But Mada-shishou,” Kagami wailed, dark eyes welling with tears._ _

__“You know those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me,” Madara scolded dryly, not letting the boys pout sway him. Seeing that he wouldn't get his way by being cute, Kagami crossed his arms._ _

__“But momma told me to come here so she can shop!” he protested. Madara sighed patiently, raising both eyebrows at Tobirama in exasperation as they made their way closer. Tobirama watched them approach with a strangely tight feeling in his throat._ _

__The tightness grew even more when Kagami reached up, wrapping his tiny hand around two of Madara’s fingers. Shit, that was cute._ _

__“Well, we’ll just have to find your mom,” Madara grunted. “I have other things to do, rather than babysit a brat like you.”_ _

__“So mean, Mada-shishou,” Kagamai whined. By now, they had at last reached Tobirama, who stood frozen next to the house, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Madara acting all soft and cute next to the tiny little Uchiha._ _

__“Whose this?” he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. Madara tsked._ _

__“Uchiha Kagami. And a right troublemaker. Kagami, why am I under the impression that your mother doesn’t actually know you’re here?” Kagami sniffed, but didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Come along now, let’s go home.”_ _

__“Care for some company?” Tobirama asked, falling into step with him and Kagami without waiting for a reply._ _

__“If I say no, would you leave?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Didn’t think so.” Madara’s dark eyes glinted with something Tobirama couldn’t identify. Kagami hummed a little tune under his breath, cheerfully swinging his and Madara’s linked hands. He walked with the two of them in silence, stomping down the urge to poke at Madara for answers to his burning questions._ _

__Who was this Kagami, who did he belong to, why did he call Madara shishou, and why was Madara so freaking soft to him._ _

__He held his tongue until Madara stomped up to a small, modest home near the center of the Uchiha district, dragging Kagami with him and rapping on the door. Only moments later, it flung open, and a frazzled looking young woman greeted them._ _

__“Kagami!” she scolded, reaching forward and tugging the boy towards her. “I’m terribly sorry, Madara-sama. I turned around for just a moment and he was gone! I was just about to come to your place to hunt him down, but I suppose I don’t have the need any longer.”_ _

__“No matter, Terishe-san,” Madara drawled. “It’s always a pleasant surprise when Kagami visits. I don’t mind.”_ _

__“Next time he’ll come when he’s supposed to,” Terishe promised. “He’s been doing well with his lessons, always practising.”_ _

__“Good.” Madara reached out, and tousled Kagami’s spiky black hair. “Be good, brat. Don’t be late tomorrow.”_ _

__“Yes, Mada-shishou!” Kagami vowed, grinning hugely and revealing two missing teeth. “Have a good date with Tobirama-sama!”_ _

__Tobiama got to see, once again, the sight of Madara flushing abruptly, turning red all the way up to his hairline. “I-it’s not…. Just don’t be late, brat!”_ _

__With that, Madara grabbed Tobirama’s wrist and all but fled off the front porch. Tobirama purposefully dragged his feet, looking back with a tiny smile as Kagami called out a farewell. “Sooo, who was that?”_ _

__“I already told you,” Madara grunted, irritated._ _

__“Yes, yes, I know. I need details.”_ _

__Madara stopped walking, and gave him an irritated stare. “His name is Kagami Uchiha, son of Terishe and Shisui. Shishui was killed two years ago by a Senju, and as clan head it is my duty to ensure Kagami has someone to aid in teaching him in the Uchiha clan ways and assist his mother wherever I can.”_ _

__Tobirama hummed. That was a little darker than he was expecting. “He’s your student,” he summarized, starting toward his lab. As he expected, Madara automatically went with him, lifting his nose disdainfully._ _

__“Yes. He is.”_ _

__“Mhm.” Well, that was interesting. Tobirama made a mental note to try and pry some more information later. Maybe when Madara was in a bit of a better mood. He seemed cranky today._ _

__They walked in silence to Tobirama’s lab. The tenseness in Madara’s shoulders eased significantly as they entered, and the Uchiha immediately began snooping, poking around at the many papers and knick-knacks and half completed experiments left in an organized chaotic disaster all over._ _

__“How do you find anything here?” Madara wondered, lifting up a paper, scanning over it, and setting it down in the wrong spot._ _

__Tobirama regretted inviting him into his lab. “Don’t touch anything,” he growled. “I know where everything is, everything has its spot, so don’t mess things up.”_ _

__“Touche,” Madara muttered, but obediently set the paper back where he found it. Tobirama hummed in approval, sitting down at his desk and gathering the papers he had been working on. They contained all the information he had on the new explosive tags he was working on. He handed them to Madara, who took them with a curious quirk of his eyebrow._ _

__“Shall we begin?” he asked, as the Uchiha flipped through the pages. He looked up, and grinned, dark eyes alight with excitement at what he saw._ _

__“Lead the way, Senju.”_ _

__~*~*~_ _

__Tobirama was SMART._ _

__He knew that before, of course. But sage, he was smart. Like, unbelievably so._ _

__Now, walking back to his place after hours of working together in the lab, he and Tobirama were finally, blissfully quiet. He hadn’t talked so much in such a short amount of time. His throat almost felt sore. Discussing the jutsu and the science and comparing different theories….It was a lot more enjoyable than he thought it’d be._ _

__He wouldn’t be opposed to repeating the experience. They made good progress on Tobirama’s experiment, but there was still more work to be done. He looked forward to it._ _

__Tobirama paused on the front steps of his house, tugging Madara’s wrist insistently. No longer surprised by Tobirama’s forwardness, Madara let him turn him around, tug him a little closer, and kiss him sweetly._ _

__Madara pulled back quickly. “Do you want to come in for tea?” he asked quietly, shifting his weight when surprise flashed across Tobirama’s face. Up till now, Tobirama was the one to ask for time to be spent together._ _

__“I’d like that,” Tobirama said, with a tiny, contained smile. Madara sighed softly, out of relief or dismay. He didn’t even know. He just nodded, stepped inside and left the door open, striding down the hall to the kitchen._ _

__He heard Tobirama close the door behind him, and slowly wander inside after him. He was the only non-Uchiha, besides Hashirama, to have ever been in his home. It was a strange thought._ _

__With a snap of his fingers, he lit a small fire under an always filled metal kettle, pulling down two mugs and preparing tea. “You can sit in the den,” he invited, pointing to the comfortable couches in the sitting area. Tobirama hummed softly, pausing behind Madara. He resisted the innate urge to turn around and screech at him._ _

__A hand rested against his hip, and a pair of lips brushed against his cheek. “Don’t take too long,” Tobirama muttered in his ear. Then he was gone, striding to the living room. Madara choked on a breath he didn’t know had caught in his throat._ _

__Sage, he had to get a grip. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. That wasn’t possible, of course. But it still felt like it at times._ _

__Shaking his head, bemused and irritated with himself, Madara readied the tea, and toddled into the living room, where Tobirama had made himself comfortable, sprawling out his long, broad body on the couch. Madara snorted, setting both mugs on the table._ _

__“Move,” he grouched, reaching down and hooking his hand under Tobirama’s knees, lifting his legs up for a moment, and sitting down where they had taken up the space on the cushions. Then he rearranged Tobirama’s legs on his lap, reaching over and plucking up his mug before relaxing back into the couch._ _

__Tobirama was staring at him intently, a strange gleam in his red eyes. “What?” he demanded, narrowing his own stare back at him._ _

__“Nothing,” Tobirama dismissed, grabbing the other mug and lifting it to his lips. Madara snorted._ _

__“Liar. What’s on your mind?”_ _

__“Just you.”_ _

__“That’s creepy.” Tobirama rolled his eyes, and Madara smirked, sipping his tea. Absentmindedly, his other hand rested on Tobirama’s knee, drawing rubbing tiny circles on the inside of his leg. “Why is that?”_ _

__Tobirama hummed thoughtfully, taking a large swallow. “You seem a lot more relaxed around me now,” he commented. Madara glanced down, staring at his tea to avoid looking at him._ _

__“I may have been suspicious of you at first,” he admitted. “But now I think I’m convinced.”_ _

__“Convinced of what?” Tobirama’s stare was intense, and he could only look away for so long before those red eyes drew his own to them._ _

__“That maybe this isn’t a terrible idea,” he replied, waving a hand between them. “That you’re honest.”_ _

__“Was there ever a doubt?” Tobirama questioned. Madara shrugged._ _

__“Maybe. The elders of my clan were...Well. A pain.” It was true, really. Even if they weren’t a pain in the way he led Tobirama to believe._ _

__“Ah.” Tobirama nodded, as though it all made perfect sense. “Hashirama hasn’t caught you yet, has he?”_ _

__“I’ve been avoiding him like he has a plague,” Madara groaned, wrinkling his nose. “Am I going to be hugged to death, or punched into a mountain?”_ _

__“Likely smothered by his delight,” Tobirama said, with a tiny twitch of his lips. His long fingers circled the rim of his mug. “May I ask you something?”_ _

__“No,” Madara deadpanned. Tobirama rolled his eyes._ _

__“I’m going to anyways.”_ _

__“Rude.”_ _

__“Already established. Anyways, what does Izuna think?”_ _

__That had Madara pausing, looking up with a curiously raised eyebrow. “What?”_ _

__“What does Izuna think of this? You and I?” Madara stared at him, and pursed his lips. “He didn’t seem to care when we went for dinner before,” Tobirama went on. “And he saw us last night. I was expecting him to at least threaten me a little. But he seems weirdly...supportive.”_ _

__Oh, kami. Crap, crap, he had NOT prepared for this at all. Nor had he thought about it!_ _

__“Izuna is...easily entertained,” Madara started slowly, making sure everything he was saying was the truth. Tobirama’s ability to know when he was lying was not going to work in his favour. “He probably thinks this is all going to end in fire and tears and heartbreak. Like some kind of terrible romantic novel.”_ _

__“Does he...want you to be heartbroken or something?” Tobirama asked, eyebrows furrowing as he frowned. Madara shrugged._ _

__“No, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m going to break _your_ heart, and he wants to see that happen, the sadistic demon.” _ _

__Tobirama hummed, setting his tea down on the table, taking Madara’’s from him and setting it down as well. His pale fingers tilted Madara’s chin, angling his face towards him. Madara stared at him as he leaned closer, tugging Madara towards him._ _

__“Come here,” he grumbled, nearly whined, when Madara was still just a little too far away. Despite himself, his childish tone had Madara cracking a wiry smile. Who knew the White Demon of the Senju could sound so pouty and childish and whiny?_ _

__He accommodated the Senju’s wish, leaning forward, and letting Tobirama mash their lips together in an enthusiastic kiss. Tobirama’s hands pulled and tugged instantly, rearranging them on the couch, until Madara was lying on top of him, chest to chest, between Tobirama’s legs. The Senju’s broad hands ran up and down his sides, tickling his ribs, pressing down on his hips, and dragging back up._ _

__Without really thinking, Madara threaded his own fingers in Tobirama’s hair, changing the angle to be a little more comfortable. Distantly, he wondered what the hell he was doing. To be so relaxed, so open and loose and vulnerable, letting the Senju guide him the way he wanted him. To kiss him so eagerly and openly, without a thought._ _

__His nagging doubts eradicated, fleeing his mind when Tobirama took his bottom lip between his teeth, and bit down, firmly, but gently. He made a soft sound before he could stop himself. Tobirama pulled back abruptly, his hands tightening where they were resting on his hips. His gaze was intense, smouldering, like he was trying to peer into Madara’s very soul. Then he licked his lips, and dove right back in, pulling Madara closer._ _

__With a groan, Madara let Tobirama haul him up, hands lowering to the back of his thighs, encouraging him to slide up, until he was sitting on Tobirama’s lower stomach. Tobirama readjusted a little more, then slid him down again, so he was straddling his lap now. All the while, he skillfully kept their lips locked._ _

__Madara pulled back to breathe. “I’m starting to get the feeling,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, “that you like seeing me on top of you like this.”_ _

__Tobirama’s eyes darkened, and he reached up, hands in his dark hair, and pulled him down to kiss him again. “That’s because if you were under me, I wouldn’t be able to control myself,” he rasped hoarsely._ _

__The words sent a violent shudder down Madara’s spine, and he let out an embarrassing whimper, that grew louder and more drawn out when Tobirama grabbed and pulled at him, like he was trying to merge their bodies into one._ _

__Madara pulled back again after a while, lips tingling and slightly numb. “Not too much,” he warned, and Tobirama _pouted,_ an expression Madara couldn’t help but find endearing. “The angle makes my neck sore,” Madara said with a shrug, pulling away. _ _

__Or at least trying to. Tobirama didn’t let him go far. He sat up as Madara pulled back, grabbing Madara by the back of his legs firmly, and swiftly standing up, taking Madara with him. Embarrassingly, Madara yelped, automatically latching onto the Senju’s collar. Tobirama chuckled at his reaction, low and long, and adjusted Madara in his arms once again._ _

__He sat down again, legs splayed once more, and settled Madara between his thighs with his back towards him. Madara stiffened, his paranoia at having someone behind him rearing its ugly head. It took great effort to not twist around and lash out. He had to remind himself he was fine, and slowly forced himself to unstraighten._ _

__“Relax,” Tobirama muttered, his breath warm on the back of his neck as he swept his hair off his back and over his shoulder. “If you don’t like this, I’ll stop.”_ _

__His broad hands ran up his back, working up and between his shoulder blades, and finally settling on his neck. Then, they started to rub, strong, clever fingers rubbing circles into the tight muscles there, skimming over and warming the tissue, and working out the irritating and sometimes painful knots that always plagued him._ _

__“If I made you sore, it’s my responsibility to make it better,” Tobirama drawled. Then he added, in a more serious tone, “is this okay?”_ _

__Madara just made a garbled sound in reply, unwittingly slouching, pushing into Tobirama’s hands. Tobirama made an amused sound behind him, fingers working deeper as the muscles got warmer and looser._ _

__The pleasant, relaxing sensation, as well as the warmth of the Senju pressed against him, had Madara’s eyes sliding shut, starting to get drowsy. With a sigh, he slouched further. Tobirama’s hands lowered, moving from his neck to his shoulders._ _

__“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Tobirama said lowly, leaning forward to rumble the words in Madara’s ear._ _

__He hummed back. “Not going to,” he said blanky, and unconvincingly. Tobirama chuckled, going back to his impromptu massage._ _

__Needless to say, Madara did in fact, end up falling asleep right on top of the Senju’s Demon._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question: can anyone guess the nickname that Tobirama is going to come up with for Madara? I've mentioned it maybe 2 or 3 times, and I'm curious :D


	9. Hand in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cute. Madara flusters because its him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. Life's been hella stressful; school's annoying, I'm a little late with assignments, and my car decided to spontaneously implode last week :/ Repairs aren't worth the price, so I was running around like a chicken without a head until I found a good replacement.

~*~*~  
 _‘Put your hand in mine. You know that I want to be with you all the time. You know that I won’t stop until I make you mine.’  
-Make You Mine, PUBLIC _

~*~*~

Tobirama was sweltering. 

It didn’t help that the living furnace called Madara decided to make him his resting place for the night. The Uchiha was positively roasting, somehow managing to heat up even more than usual at night. 

Tobirama didn’t mind. 

Despite the boiling warmth of the man draped on top of him like some sort of breathing blanket, Tobirama was content. Madara had shifted from lying on his back to lying half on his side and half on his stomach over Tobirama’s chest, face nuzzled in the crock of his neck, gloved hands spread wide over his chest, and lithe body wiggled between his legs like a cat. His chakra, that starbright blaze that burned and flared and shone, dimmed and quieted with rest, until it was barely more than a few burning embers. 

He looked different when he slept; he looked peaceful, serene, face free of the shadow of worry and doubt that always seemed to hang over him lately. He seemed sad, in a way. Whenever he looked at the growing village, whenever he watched the children from their clans play together….

One would think he’d be happy, content watching the village and the peace it represented grow. So why did he look so unbearably torn?

Contemplating this, Tobirama leaned back a little, lifting one hand to rest it upon Madara’s bushy hair. It was as thick and as heavy as it looked, and even softer than he imagined. Well. Even if he was melting under Madara’s heat (literally), he was comfy. And the warmth Madara emitted was rather comforting….and sleep inducing. 

Despite himself, Tobirama let himself be lured away into one of the deepest sleeps he had had for a while. 

~*~*~*

He woke up warm, comfy, and confused. He was pleasantly warm, and some of that warmth seemed to emanate from whatever he was lying on top of. 

Blearily, Madara lifted his head, blinking lazily until his vision cleared. Familiar red eyes met his, crinkled with an amused little smile. “Good morning, starbright,” the Senju said, his voice low and rough with sleep. 

Madara stared. Then looked down, at his hands, splayed over Tobirama’s chest. Finally, his brain clicked, and awareness dawned. 

Startled, he jerked back. Tobirama’s arms wound around him, keeping him still. “Easy you. If I wanted to do anything, I would have done it while you slept.” 

Ah. Right. 

He was actually dumb enough to just straight up fall asleep on the white demons chest. How stupid could he get? 

“What time is it?” he mumbled, instead of screeching at the Senju to let go like he wanted. Tobirama hummed, tugging Madara down a little more. Without thinking, Madara automatically curled into Tobirama’s broad chest. 

“Not time to get up yet.” 

“Ha ha. Hilarious.” 

“It’s just an hour or so past sunrise. We’re needed at the office soon.”

Inhaling deeply, Madara willed himself to relax, propping his chin on Tobirama’s sternum and humming. Distantly, he felt Tobirama’s hand on his head, petting his hair like he was some sort of long haired cat. It felt nice, but he wasn’t about to let him know that. 

“Stop that,” he grumbled, reluctantly moving his head away. Tobirama let him go, but looked a little put out about it. With a sigh, Madara pushed himself up, sliding his hands off Tobirama’s chest to the couch on either side of him. His shoulders protested his movement, displeased with his sleeping position last night. 

From the looks of it, Tobirama wasn’t feeling any better. As Madara shuffled away, the white haired man sat up, stretching out and making a face, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ow,” he muttered, reaching behind him to rub his lower back. Madara snorted. 

“Serves you right,” he informed, hopping to his feet. Tobirama’s fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him back. Both of his muscular arms looped around his waist, and a tattooed face pressed against his stomach, red eyes closing and a content sigh escaping through slightly parted lips. 

Automatically, Madara froze, barely managing to keep his chakra under wraps. If Tobirama noticed, he didn’t comment. He just tugged Madara closer, still sitting on the couch, arms gentle chains around him. “What are you doing,” he said lowly. 

Tobirama seemed unbothered. “You’re warm,” he said, not opening his eyes. He nuzzled his face a little closer, arms tightening just a little. “It’s nice.” 

Madara shifted his weight awkwardly, taken off guard by Tobirama’s….affection? Ease? He didn’t even know how he’d describe the Senju’s behaviour. Not really knowing what else to do, he hesitantly lifted one hand, and started to card his fingers through Tobirama’s hair. The other man hummed, leaning into the touch appreciatively. 

He tolerated it for a few minutes, and shifted. Tobirama let him pull away this time. “We should go,” he said quietly, keeping his gaze on the window. Tobirama sighed, and stood up, far too quickly and gracefully. 

“Breakfast first?” he offered. Madara considered. 

“Something light,” he allowed. Tobirama nodded, lips curling up just a little to the side. 

“I know just the place. Go get yourself ready, your hair is...well. It’s had better days, to put it nicely.” 

“I’m sure that’s your fault,” Madara said crankily, turning and stomping out of the living room to the bathroom. He heard Tobirama laugh behind him as he slammed the door shut behind him. Tobirama had not been joking. His hair was up and sideways and twisted and flat in all the places it shouldn’t be. 

With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to tame it, somewhat. 

He gave up very quickly, hunting down one of the thick leather ties Izuna liked to keep, and wrestling his hair into a high ponytail. While he had his privacy, he changed quickly, putting on a darker mantle, cinching it in place with a black belt. 

Well. At least he looked semi presentable now. Before he could panic more, he left the room, finding Tobirama waiting for him in the kitchen, dressed and refreshed and looking perfectly put together. At Madara’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. 

“I went home and came back. You took a long time.” 

Madara scowled. “Whatever. Let me feed the birds and we’ll head out, yes?” 

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped past the Senju, snagging the birds breakfast, and marching out the backdoor. Tobirama followed him quietly, red eyes attentive and sharp, watching his every move as he swept through the aviary, giving each and every one of his birds a gentle pat and their morning morsel. 

His last bird was one of his favorites. Most of his birds were raptors; hawks, eagles, peregrines. But Hina was exotic, a magnificent snowy owl. She trilled softly when she saw him, enormous black talons digging into her perch as she flapped her wings. 

“Hello Hina,” he greeted, running his hand over her soft head. She hopped onto his proffered arm, carefully shuffling up until she was perched on his shoulder. She took a shorter strand of his hair in her peak, and tugged. 

“I don’t think she likes your hair up,” Tobirama commented, when Hina tried to preen his hair. Madara just quirked an eyebrow again, and nudged Hina back to her perch. Disgruntled, the snowy did as requested, accepting her breakfast with a loud snap of her beak. 

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to excuse your own preferences by confusing them with hers?” Madara shoot back, giving Hina another fond pet. “Good girl,” he crooned, taking Tobirama’s wrist and guiding him out of the aviary. 

“Aren’t you going to close the doors?” Tobirama asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the doors still wide open. 

“Nope. I let my birds come and go as they please.” 

“Oddly kind of you,” Tobirama commented. 

“Oddly?” Madara echoed, glaring at him. Tobirama just smirked back at him, and Madara huffed. “Fine then.”

“Don’t be so uptight.” 

“If anyone is uptight, little Senju, it’s you.” 

A hand fisted in his collar, stopping him in his tracks and turning him around. Another hand fitted under his chin, tilting his face up. “How many times do I have to say this?” Tobirama rumbled, leaning down, warm breath against Madara’s lips. “There’s nothing about me that’s _little,_ Madara. Or are you so eager to find that out for yourself so soon?”

Madara let out an embarrassingly loud squeak, a full body shudder rippling through him. “You-Stop that!” 

“Stop what?” Tobirama asked innocently, brushing his fingers down Madara’s jaw, over his neck, and under his mantle to gain access to his collarbone. 

“You know what!” Madara screeched, wiggling away from Tobirama’s searching hands. The Senju snickered, letting him bat his hands away. 

“Oh, no, do enlighten me,” Tobirama drawled, voice lowering in amusement. “What would you like me to stop?” 

Madara sputtered, trying and failing to get ahold of himself. “STOP THAT!” he protested, pulling away from Tobirama and stomping away down the street, making towards the Hokage tower. Tobirama laughed, following right behind him. 

“You’re hilariously easy to fluster, you know,” he informed. 

“I am not,” Madara snapped back without thinking. 

“Except you are.”

Madara’s scowl deepened, and he threw Tobirama an even darker glare. “Watch your tongue, or you might just loose it.” 

“What a shame. I was under the impression that you quite liked my tongue.” 

He bit his lip to hold back an indignant squawk. “I-” _’I don’t_ , he wanted to say. That, however, would be a lie. And judging by Tobirama’s smug expression, he knew it too. 

“Ah, you like it, starbright.” 

“Don’t make assumptions.” 

“Chakra brightens with truth and darkens with lies,” Tobirama reminded. “You can’t hide anything from me, remember?” 

Madara pursed his lips, and decided to comment on something else. “Starbright?” 

Tobirama hummed, and started walking again. Madara automatically fell into step with him, jerking a little when he felt the others fingers thread through his own. He glanced down, at their intertwined fingers, considering. He felt Tobirama’s eyes on him the entire time. 

After a moment of deliberation, he allowed it. 

“Ah, yes. In the past, you’ve always reminded me of the stars. Distant, cold….but up close, radiant, burning bright and warm.” 

Madara stared at him. “That was so damn cheesy.”

Tobirama smirked. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” 

“No.” 

“Ah, the truth for once.” 

“For once?! You conniving little-”

A pair of lips crushed against his, effectively shutting him up. “You talk too much,” Tobirama rasped. 

“And whose fault is that,” Madara muttered. Tobirama’s fingers left his hand, reaching up to tug at the leather tie in his hair. 

“You should untie this.” 

“Yeah, no.”

“It’s distracting.” 

“Oh?” He took a step back, shooting Tobirama a wicked grin, and strolled back down the street. “Come along then, Tobi. It’s unlike you to be late to a long day at the office.”

“Going to the office is that last thing I want to do right now,” Tobirama groused. 

“And what would you rather be doing right now?” 

“You.” 

Dammit, did that Senju not possess a little something called a filter? Great sages. 

“You can’t just say things like that in public,” he hissed. “What if someone hears you?!” 

“Let them. I couldn’t care less.” 

“Maybe you don’t, but I do!” 

“Aw, are you shy?” 

“No!” 

“It’s cute.” 

Madara stopped, again, and groaned, digging his hands into his hair with frustration. “Can you just-You have to- _Stop doing this!”_ His angry squeal turned into a frustrated whine, and Tobirama chuckled, finally easing up. But he reached down, lacing their fingers together again and heading them towards the tower once again. 

“I apologize. I enjoy seeing you get riled up.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

Well, there was no denying that. Madara stayed quiet, walking silently beside Tobirama as they strode through the streets. People were starting to stare, gazes flabbergasted and shocked. That made sense. It wasn’t everyday one would see two of the most powerful shinobi in the village strolling along hand in hand. Especially since they had been enemies for so long. 

“Still want breakfast?” Tobirama asked after a moment. 

Madara hummed. “Do you?” he shot back. 

In response, Tobirama tugged on his hand a little, guiding him off the main road and towards a tiny little restaurant. “What do you want?” he urged as they entered. Madara made a face at him. 

“Steamed rice, if you’re paying,” he grumbled. Tobirama just smirked a little, turning away to speak to the host. Madara hung behind him, watching the white haired man. He moved so smoothly, confidently. Graceful, despite his height and muscular build. He glanced down at his hands. They were wide, strong, but elegant. And large enough that one could probably wrap around his neck and snap it. Or choke him half to death. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small togo box shoved into his hands. “What are you thinking so hard about?” Tobirama asked, putting a hand on the small of his back and guiding him out of the shop and back onto the street. 

“None of your business,” Madara said distantly, still thinking. Tobirama snorted quietly, but stayed blessedly silent, for once. Who would have thought that the Demon Senju could be so talkative? 

The remaining walk back to the tower continued in silence. Tobirama walked with him all the way to his office, then pulled up a chair, joining Madara at his desk. Madara eyed him carefully, watching as he opened his own little box, twirling his chopsticks artfully. His fingers moved gracefully, intriguingly. 

For some reason, Madara imagined, and remembered, what they felt like on his own skin, dancing along the underside of his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone, dipping down further to-

“You’re staring,” Tobirama informed, without even looking up, digging around in his box with a concentrated frown. 

Madara felt his cheeks heat, and he tore his gaze away, snapping his chopsticks apart with a scowl. “No I’m not.” 

Tobirama just chuckled quietly, lifting a steamed veggie to his mouth. They ate in silence, and Madara was grateful. The quiet let Madara think, let his mind wander. 

The peace was broken by the door flinging open so violently it almost fell from its hinges. Madara’s head shot up in surprise, and Tobirama just sighed, shaking his head a little. 

“Madaraaaaaaaa,” Hashirama squealed, leaping past his brother. Madara just blinked at him dumbly, and grunted when the older Senju’s constrictor arms wound around him and squeezed, hard and fast. “You’re dating Tobi! That’s so cute! I can’t wait until-”

“Anija, please don’t break my partners ribs,” Tobirama spoke up, frowning at his brother. With an overly dramatic gasp, Hashirama let go of Madara, and he slouched in his chair, quietly inhaling deeply. 

“Ah, I am sorry, Maddy! I don’t want to crush my future brother in law!” 

“One thing at a time, Hashirama,” Madara grumbled, inconspicuously rubbing his ribs. He could already feel bruises forming. “Here to give me the shovel talk or something?” 

“Oh, of course not,” Hashirama protested. “You’re my best friend! And I’m happy for you and Tobi.” He paused, a thoughtful frown pulling at his face. “But, I suppose….Don’t you break my brothers heart, okay?” He jabbed a finger in Madara’s chest. 

His words sent a surge of guilt crashing over him, so strong and overwhelming it made Madara look away from the cheerful Senju. 

Wasn’t this the whole point, though? To win Tobirama over, then destroy him and his clan? In doing so, he would absolutely break the mans heart. Physically, or emotionally. 

“I’ll do my best not to,” he replied to Hashirama, toying with his food, poking his chopsticks in and out so he wouldn’t have to look at the brothers. 

“I know!” Hashirama said brightly. “You and Tobi will be so good together. I’m so happy for you both!” He ruffled Madara’s hair enthusiastically, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be upset about it and screech at the Senju like he usually did. Not seeming to notice, Hashirama turned to Tobi, draping himself over his brother's shoulders and hugging him just as tightly as he had hugged Madara. 

Tobirama just hummed, and calmly kept stirring his own meal. Eventually, Hashirama let go. With a cheerful grin, the Hokage flounced out of the room, waving and grinning. “Have a good morning, little lovebirds!” 

The moment the door was closed, Tobirama set his chopsticks down, pushed his meal away, folded his hands, and stared at Madara. “What’s wrong?” he asked bluntly. 

It took colossal effort not to wince. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Madara replied carefully, making sure to keep his tone even and steady. Tobirama’s red eyes narrowed a little. 

“Your chakra betrays you,” he reminded. “What’s got you so worked up, mhm?” 

Madara stared at him, and Tobirama stared right back, expectant. “Just something your brother said,” Madara said finally, unable to hide from Tobirama’s searching gaze. 

“He said a lot. What was it specifically?” 

Tobirama probably already knew exactly what phrase had sent Madara’s chakra spiking and rolling. “Breaking your heart,” Madara said, sighing. “I’d like to avoid doing that. But I worry that I might. Or maybe you’ll break mine. You and I, and our clans, are so different. There’s still a lot of tension and distrust between the Senju and the Uchiha. What if this all falls apart? I’m sure someone, one of us, will be hurt by that. Or both.” 

“Madara,” Tobirama broke in, leaning forward. “Stop worrying so much about the future. Stop fretting and dredging up the worst possible scenarios all the time. Look how far our clans have already come. We have peace, a common ground, unity. We’ve come this far, so why would it all fall apart?” 

“It’s better to be cautious,” Madara muttered, staring down at his meal and not feeling hungry at all anymore. 

“Maybe. But maybe it’s better to just jump in headfirst and see where the current takes you.” 

“Leave it to chance?” Madara mused. 

“Not chance,” Tobirama said thoughtfully. “Ourselves. We control our futures, Madara. We decide where our lives will take us.” 

Madara stared at him, glancing down at the three red tattoos on his cheeks, his gleaming red eyes, his spiky white hair. 

“You seem awfully sure that one can control his own destiny,” he commented, forcing himself to shovel another small bite into his mouth. 

Tobirama’s mouth curled up a little in the corner. “When you have something you want to keep in your life, in your future, you have all the more motivation to fight for your own destiny, your future.” Madara opened his mouth to ask a question, but Tobirama answered it before he could. “I want you in my future, starbright. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my destiny. At least, the one I’ve chosen.” 

If only Madara could choose his own future. His destiny. His fate, and the fate of Tobirama and his clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His nickname! Cheezy, I know. But I like it. I think it suits.   
> Also, Hashirama struggles not to be an overbearing BFF and brother.

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's chapter 1! My first request work, so I hope it's enjoyable! I've got some ideas, but the rest is mostly just gonna be an absolute guessing game :D


End file.
